


Dealing With Fate

by GoldenDearie



Category: Once Upon a Time (TV)
Genre: Addiction, Alcoholism, All kinds of sex, Curse AU, F/M, Oral Sex, Romance, Rough Sex, Rumbelle - Freeform, Smut, romantic sex
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2014-05-13
Updated: 2015-06-24
Packaged: 2018-01-24 13:59:21
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 33
Words: 118,905
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1607651
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/GoldenDearie/pseuds/GoldenDearie
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Isabel French lived a quiet and mundane life in the town of Storybrooke, Maine. Everything changes when she makes a deal with the infamous Mr. Gold, a man shrouded in mystery and defined only by his bad reputation. Will the deal be an end for her, or is it the beginning she had always been searching for?</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Anything

**Author's Note:**

> Hello! This is my first multi-chapter Rumbelle fanfiction. I'm writing it to help combat the impending hiatus. It's an AU that takes place during the curse, before Emma comes into picture. I'll try to update as frequently as responsible if anyone actually reads it. For now there are not any warnings, but in later chapters explicit themes may be explored. I hope you enjoy!

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hello! This is my first multi-chapter Rumbelle fanfiction. I'm writing it to help combat the impending hiatus. It's an AU that takes place during the curse, before Emma comes into picture. I'll try to update as frequently as possible if anyone actually reads it. For now there are not any warnings, but in later chapters explicit themes may be explored. I hope you enjoy!

Isabel French always had dreams bigger than the quaint little town of Storybrooke, Maine. As a little girl all she wanted to be was an adventurer like the ones in the books she read. She had made plans to set off and see the world once she turned eighteen, the eagerly anticipated day a beacon of light in an otherwise dull existence. She got a job as soon as she turned fourteen, and she had started to steadily save up her money.

Everything changed when her father invested in the stock market. He lost all of his own savings that allowed for a life of modest comfort, and he turned to his daughter for help. She'd been seventeen and a half then, and she had of course loaned him enough money to meet his rent. Just one week of borrowing turned to two, which quickly turned to a month. Before Isabel knew it, all of her adventure savings were spent. By eighteen she had nothing due to assisting her father each week.

She knew she would never get her adventure and that her fate was to remain in town, taking care of her financially irresponsible father. She worked at the animal hospital as an assistant and although she loved animals, it was fairly dull work that paled in comparison to exploring the United Kingdom's national library or the Palace of Versailles. All she did was fill out charts, answer phones, file papers, and feed the resident cat, a small three legged tabby named Dazzle. It wasn't what she wanted, but she supposed she should be grateful to have a job.

Things had been exactly the same for as long as she could remember. Everybody knew everybody in Storybrooke, and nothing overly interesting ever happened. There weren't ever any new faces, and no one ever seemed to leave. It only made Isabel all the more restless.

Since she was a little girl she had always lacked a sense of belonging. She had few friends, and was considered slightly odd by some. She was always wise beyond her years and as a result hadn't gotten along well with the other children. Even when she was alone, Isabel never felt lonely. She just felt an emptiness in her heart, one she couldn't explain.

Isabel sighed wistfully as she turned the page of her adventure novel, barely hearing the doorbell as it rang. Her father was home and would get it, so she remained curled in her reading nook. She pulled the soft blanket around her shoulder more snug, sighing at the constant chill present in her house. Her father would scrimp on heating to save money, only to waste the savings away.

Isabel perked up as her father raised his voice, clearly rather angry at whoever was inside the house. She marked her place in the worn novel, closing it gently and setting it on the cushion. She removed her blanket and stood up, walking the short distance down the hall to the top of the stairs. The old floorboards creaked beneath her bare feet, painted toes curling from the chill of the hardwood. She could hear her father's loud voice without any trouble. Whoever was with him spoke softly, likely much calmer than he.

“You monster! You can't do this to me!” Her father shouted in outrage, and she could picture the shade of red his face would be as he exclaimed. She set off down the stairs, heading towards the sound of her father's curses.

“Mr. French, your adamant nature is admirable, but I'm afraid you've given me no choice.” Said Mr. Gold, his hands neatly folded together atop the gold handle of his cane. He was dressed impeccably in a charcoal grey suit, his black dress shirt paired with a black and grey striped tie. Isabel had always found the pawnbroker to be rather attractive in a unique way, but she could count the number of times they spoke on one hand.

“Dad, what's going on?” Isabel asked, her concern evident in her tone. Her father's face reddened in humiliation, and Mr. Gold shifted so he was looking at her. She was slightly unnerved from the way he was staring at her. He resembled a cat who had just spotted a plump canary. He flashed her what seemed to be an attempt at a friendly smile, the gold in his mouth glinting in the light.

“Isabel, perhaps you should go back upstairs. Mr. Gold and I are discussing business.” He said quickly, not looking her in the eye as he nervously wrung his hands.

“I'm unopposed to her staying. Really, this influences her life as well as yours.” Gold said in a flat tone, shifting his weight slightly.

“What's going on, dad?” She asked again, her voice more forceful this time. “I deserve to know if it really will affect me.”

“Allow me. Miss French, your father borrowed a fair deal of money from me, and he has neglected to pay it back. The sum has steadily increased due to our contract's specifications of interest. Since he isn't paying against his debt or the rent, I'm in my rights to evict and take ownership of his shop. First order of business will be a change of name.” Gold said, his lips quirking up in amusement. Isabel gaped at him, her eyes wide with panic. She turned to face her father, anger flashing throughout her bright blue eyes.

“I gave you every cent of my pay. For rent.” She said quietly, looking up at him in betrayal. Her heart felt heavy and throat was dry, her small hands balled up into tight fists.

“Isabel, please, let me-”

“No. I don't want to talk about it.” She said firmly, folding her arms across her chest. She was dangerously close to shedding tears, and she wasn't about to do so in front of Gold. She turned back towards Gold, unsettled to find he was already watching her. “How much is it, Mr. Gold?”

“I'd be breaching my end of the contract if I told you.” He said in an even tone, tearing his gaze away from her to look at Moe.

“My girl can know. She deserves to.” He said. They both watched as Gold reached into his pocket, pulling out a gold fountain pen. He picked up the small notepad on the counter, writing the figures down. Isabel took it from him, gasping in shock as she read the sum over and over.

“Dad, how could you?” She asked in a shaking voice, finally tearing her gaze away and crumpling the paper into a small ball.

“You two certainly have a lot to talk about.” Gold began, tucking his own away and fanning his hand out. “However, I am a very busy man. You have until Friday to clear your belongings out.”

“Gold, you can't-”

“I can and I am.” Gold said hastily, holding a heated stare with Moe, his own gaze fairly subdued. He turned on his heel and began to walk to the door, his cane thumping on the hardwood floor.

“No, wait.” Isabel said softly, taking a few steps in his direction. He paused, turning around and looking at her curiously. “Is there any way you could give us more time?”

“There is hardly an us, m'dear. While it's rather unfortunate that you will lose your home over this, this is between your father and I.” Gold said in a surprisingly gentle voice, his eyes scanning her beautiful face. Isabel knew she was meant to follow the rest of the town in their fear of him, but she found she didn't fear him as a person. She only feared the destruction he was capable of causing to her little family.

“No, there is an us. I stand by my father even in his mistakes, and I will in this one. Please, there must be something I can do. I'll do anything.” She said thoughtlessly, not considering just how that could be used against her. His eyebrows lifted in surprise, a small smirk flirting across his face.

“You'll do anything.” He repeated, more emotion coating his brogue than she'd ever heard before. “Anything.” He drawled out, speaking as if he was tasting the words as they came out.

“Yes. Anything you want.” She said, refusing to flinch back as he stepped closer to her. He seemed to breath in a little more deeply, and he regarded her with interest.

“You'd make a deal with the devil and offer him anything? You're either foolishly brave or just plain naive.” He said in a smooth voice, leaning in more. She held her place.

“You're not the devil, you're just Mr. Gold. I know you're a reasonable man.” She said, more trying to reassure herself. And it was true. Gold was known for being ruthless, but his requests were always clear enough. He just tended to expect a lot with little leeway.

“But even a reasonable man could take advantage of being offered anything.” He pointed out with a sly smirk, shifting his cane between his hands.

“My offer stands. Someone once told me that a deal can always be struck between two interested parties.” She said, briefly trying to recall who had taught her that. The words were familiar, but the speaker was hazy. It was as if a thick fog settled over her memories of the moment, a thick and stifling fog she was nearly desperate to penetrate. Try as she might, she could not fish out the one she quoted from.

“That sounds like something I would say.” He murmured, tapping a long finger on his chin. “No matter. And why do you believe you have anything of interest to me?”

“I... There must be something.” She said in a small voice, lowering her gaze in embarrassment. The way he was looking at her made her feel like a small and insignificant little girl. She finally understood why the rest of the town was so intimidated by him. Mr. Gold the deal maker was intense, his eyes betraying no feeling besides superiority. 

“Perhaps. Let's see... I require a few days to decide on what I want. But since the deal is anything, anything will be agreed to.” Gold said sternly, clearing his throat so she looked up. “I'll bring you a contract at the veterinarian's office tomorrow. In exchange for forgiveness of your father's debts, you will give me anything of my choice. You understand that you have to accept my terms regardless of how they displease you, yes?”

“Isabel! You cannot do this! I do not trust him, he'll take advantage of you!” Her father cried out in horror, laying a hand on her shoulder. “He's a monster.

Gold only smirked.

“You got us into this mess, and I'm getting us out. It's my choice.” She said firmly, not turning to look at him. She wasn't sure she could stand the sight of him in this moment.

“Well, Miss French?”

“Y-yes sir. As long as you will forgive my father's debt and be more lenient on the rent, then I will uphold my end.” She said, trying to keep her voice from shaking too noticeably.

“You drive a hard bargain, Miss French.” He said with an amused smirk. He then held out his hand. She took it, giving a firm handshake. He didn't let go even after, looking down in her eyes. “We have a deal, Miss French. I'll see you tomorrow with the contract. We'll go over it at noon.”

“That sounds great, Mr. Gold. I'll see you tomorrow. Thank you.” She said softly, flashing him a strained yet polite smile. He seemed conflicted for a moment, giving a slight shake of his head.

“Until tomorrow, dearie. Mr.French.” He said with a tip of his head, turning and opening the door. He let himself out, and Isabel watched as he limped out to his Cadillac.

“Isabel, you must tell him you've changed your mind! I don't trust him, not after seeing how he was looking at you.” Moe pleaded, gripping her by the shoulders.

“I trust Mr. Gold a lot more than I trust you right now. Why didn't you tell me? And what did you even need that money for?” She asked, suspicion seeping into her tone. She shrugged away his touch, looking at him with blazing eyes.

“Isabel, my darling girl, I-”

“Please, don't sugarcoat it. Just tell me.” She said in exasperation, her arms folded across her chest.

“Well... I'm not very good at poker. But I play often. I've borrowed from Gold often and... It just built up to become this massive debt.” He explained, sinking down at one of the dining chairs, burying his face in his hands.

“Gambling? Really, dad?” She sighed softly, leaning against the wall. Despite the brave front she had successfully put on, she was growing exceedingly nervous about the matter of anything, and she couldn't help but feel slight anger towards her father for getting her here.

“I know, I know. I made many mistakes and I never wanted you to know them. And now I fear I have cost you. Izzy, believe me, the man has ill intentions. The way he looked at you was predatory. Like you were a lamb and he a wolf. You can't do this.”

“It's been decided. I'm doing this. I've made a deal with Mr. Gold, and I will uphold it. No matter what.” She said solemnly, turning and heading back up to her room. She couldn't bring herself to return to her book, and she was fairly certain she'd be unable to focus on the text. She had just made a deal with the most feared man in Storybrooke. She didn't even know what it was he would demand of her, but she was fairly certain it was going to be a steep price. After all, it was a hefty sum of money, so it would warrant an equally hefty cost.

She decided then that she would contact Granny, the owner of the local diner, and see if she could take on a few shifts. At night they got fairly busy, and she was a close friend of her granddaughter. Throughout the years she had worked there sporadically, whenever they were strapped for help or she for cash. With her father gambling away money, it wouldn't hurt to bring in more in order to have a cushion of security. Since he kept secrets from her, she'd keep this money secret from him. Since Gold had said nothing about the rental agreement, she knew that meant he would still collect every month and she wanted to be ready to contribute any shortages.

But truly, she also had hopes to move out of her father's house and get her own apartment. She had been planning on doing so for some time, and his deceit only solidified her desire to branch out. She couldn't live under the same roof as man who had gotten their family into such a deep hole.

Despite the circumstances, her life had suddenly gotten a lot more interesting. She wasn't sure if it was a good or bad thing, but Gold's reputation said it was the latter. Regardless, she wasn't going to judge him until she knew him and what was inside him. Gold was a mystery to be uncovered, and she was looking forward to unraveling the man behind the mask.


	2. Contracts and Curiosities

Isabel was having a horrid day, and it wasn't even close to over. If the coffee strains down the front of her crisp white blouse weren't indication enough, then perhaps the angry trio of scratches along her arm were. She had been forced to handle a angry cat and lost the battle. Her shirt was stained with coffee from when she bumped into the mayor, and blood that was her own.

Dinner the night before had been a silent and awkward affair, the only conversation being strained questions from her father that warranted one word replies. Neither of them that mentioned Gold or the upcoming deal, but it had been tense nonetheless. She had felt a brief stab of guilt upon catching her father's pain when she didn't deliver his nightly hug, but she had swallowed it down. She was well within her rights to be angry with him, and many daughters wouldn't even have helped.

She felt a soft coat of fur against her leg and the soft meow that accompanied the sensation brought a grin to her face. She rolled her chair back and bent, scratching Dazzle behind the ears affectionately. He purred contently, his eyes drifting closed from joy. Her mind was, for the first time all day, pleasantly blank from thoughts of worry over Mr. Gold. She scratched the sensitive spot on Dazzle's back, his tail flicking into her face. She laughed softly, smiling down at the furry creature.

“Ms. French?” A deep voice called out, startling her. She straightened up in fright, hitting her head off the overhang of the countertop. She winced from the pain that hit, backing up and standing up, rubbing her temple to attempt easing the pain. “Are you alright, dearie?” He asked in concern, taking a step closer to the counter, outstretching his hand to her. His face shifted as he seemed to think, allowing his hand fall flat on the counter.

“Yes, I'm alright. Just a little bump, it's not a big deal.” She reassured, ignoring the ache that set into her head. She gave him a strained smile, looking at him warily. 

“No need to hurt yourself to get a look at me, dear.” He joked, offering her an attempt at a smile, his hands drumming on the counter silently. She felt her cheeks heat up in embarrassment, and she felt her heart pick up slightly. If not for the fact that it was Mr. Gold, she would have thought the comment to be rather flirty. Surely Gold wouldn't think of her in such a manner. He wasn't known for being friendly, and certainly wasn't known for being flirty.

“I hurt myself enough on a daily basis. It's nothing out of the ordinary.” She said, running a hand through her curls to neaten them back up. Gold placed his elbows on the counter, leaning slightly closer to her. The shift in proximity sent the aroma of his expensive cologne towards her, and she fought off the startling urge to breathe him in.

“You ought to be more careful.” He breathed softly, his eyes roaming her face as if he was searching for something.

“I ought to, you're right.” 

“Wouldn't want to ruin my end of the deal, now would you?” He asked with a teasing smile, the corner of his lips quirking upwards. He was clearly rather amused at her expense, and she found it slightly annoying.

“Of course not. Speaking of, did you bring our contract?”

“So eager to be rid of the town monster?” He asked with a deprecative edge to his voice, his eyes narrowing.

“All I see is the town pawnbroker, and my business partner. I see a man. Never a monster” She said, offering him the brightest smile yet. He stared at her for a moment, his gaze intense and his lips drawn in a thin line. Then he sneered.

“Being charming will get you know will. I will claim my price regardless of pretty words.”

“Mr. Gold, I'm not trying to sway you. I'm simply being honest.” She said, sighing softly and averting her eyes.

“Perhaps you should get your eyes checked then.” He said sarcastically, reaching inside his pocket and pulling out a neatly folded piece of paper. “Now, I made this up last night. It was fairly easy, considering your terms were so simple. You'll want to read it over and state anything that makes you concerned.” He said as he unfolded the paper, smoothing out the creases in the contract and sliding it across the counter to her.

She read every word slowly and precisely. She was both amused and exasperated to find he had included the definition of the word anything I'm the text. The terms stated that he would forgive her father's debts and offer two weeks of leniency on future rent collections. It stated he could collect his end of the deal from her at his own convenience. That made her worry.

“Mr. Gold?”

“Yes dear?”

“It says that you can collect it whenever.” She said hesitantly, pointing her finger to the line of text mentioning that clause.

“Indeed, it does.” He said, regarding her with a patient look in his eyes.

“I'm not sure how I feel about that. I mean, you could make me wait ten years before I know what I must do.” She said, shifting her weight to her left foot, wringing her dainty hands in front of her nervously.

“I can assure you, I'm not a very patient man. I'll decide within a month, likely sooner. You needn't worry, I wouldn't keep you waiting. If you'd feel more comfortable I can edit the contract.” He said, his tone even and gentle. She was relieved. She had expected he would be angry at her for nitpicking.

“You don't have to edit it, I trust that you'll do as you say.” She said, watching as his eyebrows furrowed.

“You trust me?”

“You haven't given me reason not to.” She said, laying her hand over his briefly. He jumped at the touch, lowering his gaze to her hand that covered his. He stared at her hand as if it was foreign and burning him, then he shifted his gaze to her eyes. He opened his mouth only to close it, his eyes falling to their hands again. She took her hand back, not noticing the way he sighed in disappointment. 

“I shall do my best not to. A gentleman keeps his word.” He said finally, his eyes returning to her.

“I'll sign it.” She said, reaching for her pen and placing it to the paper. It was his turn to cover her hand, and she froze, looking up at him in confusion. 

“Miss French, I fear you won't like whatever terms I come to. This is your last chance to back out.” He said, his eyes nearly pleading with her. 

“Do you not want to make the deal?”

“Oh no, I truly want to. I just fear you'll try to escape me. You should know I don't let people get away with breaking deals.” He warned, his eyes flashing with a hint of danger, his warm hand pressing down on her chilled skin.

“And you should know I don't break deals.” She said, tilting her chin up stubbornly, her lip stiff.

“Very well then. Just know that I take anything quite literally.” 

“That's good, I meant it like that.” She said as he retracted his hand, straightening up and folding both hands over the top of his cane. He was the picture of elegance in that moment. Her hand moved in the delicate formation of her signature, the pen moving painstakingly slow. “There.”

“The deal is struck.” He said, holding his hand out to her. She shook it firmly, silently marveling over how pleasant his hand felt in her own. His skin was smooth and warm, and his grip was strong yet not overbearing. She had never seen a man with such neat and well-maintained hands, but they still managed to be large and masculine despite the appearance. 

The way he was looking at her was both enthralling and unsettling. Her father had been right about one thing. He was eyeing her as if he was a wolf and she was the sheep he was hunting. His tongue darted out and ran across his lower lip, his grip momentarily tightening. His eyes were ablaze and his thumb momentarily stroked across her skin. The gesture was surprisingly tender, and she felt her cheeks heat up. He seemed to snap out of a trance and he quickly removed his hand from her grasp, picking the paper up.

“I'll keep this in a safe place.” He promised, pulling his own from his pocket and signing M. R. Gold across the empty line. “I'll make you a copy, of course.”

“Thank you for making it.” She said with a gentle smile, watching as he tucked it safely within his jacket.

“Of course. I am rather adept at contracts, so it was only logical.” He said, glancing down as the cat rubbed against his leg, his tail curling up around his shin.

“That's Dazzle.”

“Pardon?” He asked with an arched eyebrow.

“The cat. His name is Dazzle.” She said, pointing down at him. Gold nodded awkwardly, shifting his weight on his cane more.

“He's quite lovely. I empathize with his leg trouble.” He remarked dryly, dusting his jacket off.

“What ever happened to you?”

“A nosy little brunette asked too many questions and made me forget to look both ways before crossing.” He said sardonically, narrowing his eyes at her.

“Right. I am being nosy. I'm sorry, Mr. Gold. It's not my place to ask.” She said, reverting back into shyness. She sat back down in her chair, putting some distance between them for her comfort.

“There's no need to make an apology. You seem curious by nature.” He observed, watching as she fiddled with her bracelet, his eyes never leaving the small movements.

“I am. I think it comes with the territory of reading so much.” She said with a soft chuckle, folding her hands over her knee neatly.

“You're a reader then? I can see it. Inquisitive, intellectual, thorough. All characteristics of a bookworm.” 

“You seem to know a lot about me.” She said suspiciously, looking up at him beneath her lashes.

“I know a lot about everyone. Miss French, I was wondering if... Might you... Ah, never mind.” He said, waving his hand dismissively and swallowing hard, clearing his throat.

“No, what is it?” She asked, tilting her head as she looked up at him, smiling.

“It was nothing. I really must be going.” He said, taking a step back and inclining his head. “Have a nice day, Miss French.”

“Wait! You can't just start to say something and leave me hanging.” She said with a slight pout. He swallowed hard, shaking his head quickly.

“Yes I can, dear. I'll be seeing you shortly.” He said, turning and walking out, his cane tapping rhythmically on the linoleum floor. 

She sighed almost sadly as he walked out, staring down at the hand he had touched. She wasn't sure why, but she found herself feeling drawn to the enigmatic man. The warmth she felt when their hands touched had spread throughout her whole body, leaving a pleasant tingling feeling that went down to her bones. Mr. Gold may have had a ruthless and cruel reputation, but she wasn't sure how much she bought into it. She was certain she had glimpsed something beneath the hard exterior. He was almost certainly a layered man, and she was going to uncover it.

 

The following even Isabel found herself working at Granny's diner. It had been rather easy to secure work under the older woman, and Belle rather enjoyed it. Ruby was her closest friend so the girls always had a grand time working the same shifts. During a brief lapse that allowed them a moment to talk, Isabel mentioned her deal with Mr. Gold. Ruby looked at her in horror. She seized the girl by the shoulders, tugging her closer and holding her in a surprisingly strong grip.

“Izzy! You don't just offer a guy like that anything! He could try to turn you into some sex slave.” She whispered frantically, her eyes wide with fear for her friend. 

“Ruby, I don't think Mr. Gold is like that!” Isabel said, rolling her eyes and laughing.

“Um, he's a single, lonely old man. You're a hot young piece of ass. Of course he's like that.” She said with an exasperated sigh, releasing her shoulders to fold her arms.

“He wouldn't do that.”

“Did you hear about his deal with Ashley? The sicko actually paid her for her unborn baby. Who's to say he won't do the same to you and demand your firstborn?” She asked, widening her eyes dramatically.

“You're being silly. He's a reasonable man.” Isabel said, unsure why she felt so inclined to defend him. She knew she was likely the only one in town to hold him in even a slight positive light.

“No he is not. He wouldn't even give Granny one day extra on the rent. We've paid on time for as long as I can remember, and we literally needed one more day to scrap together more. A reasonable man doesn't do that. A reasonable man gives the poor old widow and her granddaughter time.” She said, scowling the more she spoke of the man. Ruby clearly shared the opinion of everyone else in town.

“It's business with him. I'm sure it's nothing personal.”

“He's even more strict with the nuns. What kind of a jackass doesn't like nuns?” 

“I'm sure it's not that he doesn't like them.” Isabel said, sighing softly to herself. “Look, I'm just trying to help my dad. He's screwed if I don't so this.”

“You're signing away your firstborn here. I have a feeling that's what he's gonna ask for.” 

“He seems to know everything, so I'm sure he knows about my lack of love life. He knows a baby won't be in the picture for years, so demanding that would be waste of his time.” She said, shaking her head at the thought of dealing for her firstborn.

“What if he, you know, wants to knock you up himself. Create an army of greedy little bastards who wear suits and ruin lives.” Ruby said as if it was the most logical thing, huffing slightly.

“Ruby!”

“Hey, it's a reasonable theory. Maybe he thinks you'll make cute babies.” 

“What does Gold even do with the babies?” Isabel asked skeptically, wrinkling her nose slightly. She noticed Ruby had paled.

“Why, I eat them of course. What did you expect, m'dear?” A silky voice nearly purred in her ear, and she then became aware of the body behind her. She whirled around, her cheeks turning red with pure humiliation.

“Mr. Gold! We- uh, we... We were just...”

“Gossiping about the most infamous man in town. No need to explain.” He said with a casual wave of his hand, smirking at her.

“It wasn't like that. I was telling Ruby about our deal and we got off track.”

“Ah, yes. By the way, if you must know, I find the babies homes.” 

“Really?” She asked with a small smile, turning and shooting Ruby a triumphant grin.

“Don't smile like that. It's not out of the goodness of my heart. It's simply about finding the highest bidding buyer and getting a good return investment.” He said dismissively, scowling as she playfully rolled her eyes.

“Sure it is, Mr. Gold.”

“It is, dearie.”

“Mhm.”

“Miss French, my patience is wearing thin.” He said, though he wore a small smile. His eyes seemed to be traveling her body, and she was momentarily confused. It seemed odd that he would waste time observing her when the scantily clad Ruby was right in his line of vision. Oddly enough, he hadn't even spared the leggy brunette one glance.

“I'm sorry, Mr. Gold. I remember you saying you weren't very patient.” She remarked, her own smile growing as she took in his appearance. His sleek pinstriped suit was over a red dress shirt. His tie was darker and paisley patterned, his pocket square matching well. His sense of fashion always astounded her. He stuck out like a sore thumb compared to the other men in Storybrooke, but she assumed that was just what he was going for with his attire. Elegant yet intimating and unapproachable.

“I suppose I can spare some patience for a curious bookworm like yourself.” He said, seeming surprised as she let out a soft giggle.

“Thank you sir. That's very kind of you.” 

“Yes well, keep it to yourself. Can't have people thinking thinking the monster has lost his claws.” He said with a nearly playful wag of his finger, leaning on the counter and ending up slightly closer to her. She rested her hand on his arm, giving him a mock glare. His whole body went rigid under her touch, his hand gripping his cane as if it was his lifeline. Despite his apparent discomfort, he didn't attempt to move away. He did, however, look at her as if she was about to play some elaborate prank on him. She thought with a pang that people probably never touched him. The man was probably totally unused to human contact of the physical variety.

“Do I have to say it again? You're not a monster.”

“You're a strange girl, Isabel French.” He said with a smirk, seeming to relax. 

“That's not the first time I've heard that.”

“And I'm sure it won't be the last.” He said with a deep chuckle, his grip on his cane loosening.

“What brings you here tonight, Mr. Gold?” She asked with a curious smile, tilting her head in a particularly adorable way. 

“I actually just came in for a coffee.” He said, glancing over at the pot located behind the counter.

“Oh! Of course. Let me get that for you.” She said sheepishly, removing herself from his space and moving over to coffee maker.

“Just black, dear.” He said, watching every move she made. She poured the hot coffee into a travel cup and out the lid on it, bringing it over to him and setting it in front of him. He picked it up and took a sip. “Beautiful.” He said as he looked in her eyes. He pulled his black leather wallet out of his pocket, fishing out a fifty dollar bill and pushing it into her hands. “Keep the change. I must be on my way. Have a good evening, Miss French, and do be careful around the counters.” He said, sharing a small and secret smile with her as her hand darted up to the location the bump had previously resided on.

“Thank you so much, Mr. Gold, but I really can't accept a tip this big.”

“Of course you can. It's hardly large. Buy yourself something nice.” He said with a grin, turning and strutting out of the diner without another word. Isabel watched him walk away with interest, slowly turning to face Ruby.

“That was a little disturbing. Next time you two need to get a room.” She said, smirking as she pretended to shudder.

“We were just talking.” She said as she began to wipe down the counter, simply looking for a way to focus on more than just Ruby.

“Izzy! You can't even deny it! You and Mr. Gold were flirting. It was clear as day. I saw the way you laid your hand on him, and how he just beamed at you. It's only a matter of time before he takes you home.” 

“Ruby, we weren't flirting. Mr. Gold isn't exactly the flirty type.” Isabel said with a blush, silently willing her friend to keep her voice down. She didn't want gossip about her and Mr. Gold to spread throughout the town. And she knew it would.

“You were flirting. Trust me, I'm a flirting expert. He likes you. Mr. Gold has a heart after all. And it belongs to you.”

“Flirting doesn't mean you're in love with the person. We're just... Friends. No, not even. We're business partners.” Isabel said firmly.

“Sister, you two were flirting up a storm. Now quiet down so I can enjoy my dinner.” Leroy piped up from the counter, scoffing as he set back into his hamburger.

“Told you.” Ruby murmured, turning and sashayed back into the kitchen, a triumphant red lipped smirk lighting up her face.

For the rest of her shift all Isabel could do was ponder the truth behind Ruby's (and Leroy's) words. She still wasn't sure she bought into him flirting with her, simply because he seemed so unattainable. Why would he waste his time with an odd and bookish girl? She admitted to herself with shame that she had indeed been flirting with him. She wasn't sure why. It wasn't as thought she had feelings for him, she barely knew him. Regardless, there was some sort of force pulling her towards him, as if it was reminding her that she was supposed to know him. The lingering question kept her up, and when sleep finally did come, the dreams were of an eccentric and scaly wizard who giggled and flourished his hands. Despite the outward appearance that would deter most, they were most certainly dreams and not nightmares. They were so vivid it startled her, and she awoke many times throughout the course of the night. The next day at work was sure to be a long one given her lack of sleep, but she would face it without complaint. Perhaps she'd even see Mr. Gold again. The thought was enough to make her smile at 4:35 am, and she allowed herself to drift back to sleep.


	3. The Sheriff's Station

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hey guys! I'm moving tomorrow and won't have wifi for several days. I'll be confined to my phone's wireless so I wanted to get this out now. I hope you enjoy!

Meteors falling to earth in flaming showers couldn't have torn Isabel away from her battered copy of The Odyssey. It had always been one of her favorite works, and the fourth time around was no exception. Reading had always been the greatest comfort, the activity had brought her solace since she lost her mother at the tender age of five. It had always been their ritual for the late Delilah French to read to the young girl prior to bed every night. Due to the exposure she had learned to read rather early, beginning chapter books at the age of six. Since her childhood books had been the only friends she truly needed.

Sadly for her, the Storybrooke Public Library had been closed for as long as she could remember. The mayor had said that they didn't have funds or interest to reopen it, but that had always made Isabel suspicious. Surely she wasn't the only one in town who enjoyed sitting down with a good book. Due to the lack of library and bookstore it was often hard to come by different books. Because of this she often found herself rereading the books in her personal collection. 

Anyone who knew Isabel knew it was best to leave her be when she had her nose in a book. She was always slightly exasperated when her favorite hobby was interrupted, though she was too kind to react much more than a huff. Her impending frustration didn't stop her father from entering her room and standing before her, wringing his hands in front of him nervously. She was so lost in the story that she didn't look up, her eyes continuing to scan the page.

“Isabel, my girl.” Her father said softly, trying not to startle her, his hands ceasing their movements. She jumped slightly, slowly lifting her head, looking up at him in slight annoyance. She marked her page with her fabric bookmark, setting the book down in her lap and arching an eyebrow. 

“Yes papa? You always seem to interrupt me right when I'm getting to the good part.” She said, her voice lacking any real malice. 

“I'm sorry, Izzy. I just really think we need to talk about some things.” He said gently, taking the place beside her on the window seat. She sat up a little straighter, doing her best to hide her small sigh. 

“What of?” She asked needlessly, already knowing exactly what he was intending to mention.

“About Mr. Gold. Please Izzy, please reconsider this. You do not want to be in debt to a man like him.” He said, grasping one of her hands with his large meaty hand, his eyes pleading with her desperately.

“I've already signed the contract. The deal is struck.” She said, pulling her knees up against her chest and wrapping her arms around them. While having a father who cared for her well-being was appreciated, she was more annoyed than anything. She had already signed, and she knew Mr. Gold wouldn't take too kindly to a polite request to tear the contract up.

“There must be some way to change things.” He said, his shoulders slumping heavily. “I cannot let you do this for me.”

“I'm sure he won't ask for anything too outrageous. I'm not worried, and you should to be either. Mr. Gold is a good man, I truly believe he is.” She said, squeezing his hand in reassurance, her smile gentle yet confident. 

“He's a monster. A good man wouldn't evict us.”

“Papa, he's also a good businessman. He doesn't mean it personally.” She said, rolling her eyes slightly, taking her hand back and turning her head away.

“I'm your father and I forbid this.” He said sternly, folding his arms and looking at her seriously. She stiffened, glaring as her head snapped back towards him.

“You forbid it? I'm twenty-one, very nearly twenty-two! You're not in the position to forbid me from doing anything.” She said, standing up from the seat and stepping away, her eyes alight with anger. “Don't treat me like some child. I'm an adult and adults are able to make their own decisions.”

“Then I will take matters into my own hands.” He said darkly, also standing up, his face turning red with rage.

“Father, no one decides my fate but me. This is my call to make.” She said, huffing in indignation when he turned on his heel and exited, closing her door behind him. She sank down onto her bed, running her hands through her hair in frustration. She was already feeling humiliated about her father trying to intervene, and she just hoped he didn't decide to confront Mr. Gold. That would lead to embarrassment and make Mr. Gold take her far less seriously. So far he had treated her as an equal, something he wasn't known for doing with anyone. She didn't want to lose the respect he offered her. Given the way he regarded the rest of the town, his treatment of her was pleasant.

She understood why her father was wary over Mr. Gold's impending price. Regardless, she didn't appreciate the way he was attempting to control her. While her father was fair and loving, he had always tried to dictate her life. The deal with Gold was the first major choice she had made on her own, and she wasn't about to let her father ruin it. 

She made her way down the stairs and into the living room, looking around for her father. She checked the kitchen and dining room, sighing loudly as she realized he was no where to be found. Her cheeks burned in shame as she realized he was probably bothering Mr. Gold. Given the hour he would likely be out of his shop. She hoped her father didn't have the nerve to bother him at his home. 

She wasn't her father's babysitter, so she went back up to her bedroom to immerse herself in her book once again. She wasn't sure how long she read for, but she was interrupted by the phone ringing. She jogged down the stairs and grabbed it off the hook, bringing it to her ear.

“French residence.”

“Izzy, it's me.” Said the voice of her father, his tone hushed. 

“Dad? What's going on? Where are you?” She asked quickly, her hand gripping the frame of the archway as she bit her lip.

“I'm... I'm at the sheriff's station. I've gotten arrested.” He said sheepishly, his face surely as red as a ripe tomato. Isabel froze, her eyes ride as she processed the information.

“Papa, what on earth did you do?”

“Can you just come down and bail me out?” He asked hastily, and she let out a heavy sigh.

“I'll be there as soon as I can.” She said, hanging up the phone and leaning against the wall a moment. She pressed her hand over her mouth, letting out an undignified huff as she closed her eyes a moment. She'd have to get her last bit of savings out from beneath her mattress, and even then she wasn't sure it would be enough to get him out. She retrieved the funds from their hiding spot, tucking them away in her purse. 

She walked out and locked the door, her steps heavy and almost reluctant. She wasn’t sure what her father had done, and she just hoped he hadn’t threatened Mr. Gold or anything of the sort. Her father’s actions could make their lives very difficult if he got them back on Mr. Gold’s bad side.

She entered the station and walked down the hall. She peered into the room, seeing her father sitting on the cot of the cell on the right hand side. She took a deep breath and entered the room, facing Sheriff Graham right away.

“Hey Graham.” She said, smiling at him politely, crossing the short distance until she was in front of him.

“Hello Isabel. How are you this evening?” Graham asked, flashing her a pearly white smile as he looked down at her as he threaded his fingers through his belt loops, his badge glistening on his chest.

“That depends, Sheriff. What exactly did my father do to get himself in here?” She asked warily, arching a well manicured eyebrow as she glanced over at her father. He was stood with his large hands wrapped around the bars of the cell, looking quite guilty.  
“He broke into Mr. Gold’s shop and lit one of his papers on fire. Mr. Gold said the paper was very important.” Graham explained, glancing over at her father as he spoke. She froze at his words, her hands balling up into tight fists that hung loosely by her side. She felt hot coils of rage wrap around her, spreading quickly like a fire through an otherwise tranquil forest. She hung her head a moment, taking several deep breathes in a fruitless attempt to quell the flames.

“I assume it was our contract.” She said in a tight voice,the true magnitude of her anger carefully concealed behind the uttered words. She didn’t wish to blow up in front of the kind Sheriff, lest she make a mistake that landed her in the neighboring cell.

“I believe so. I haven’t spoken to Mr. Gold yet, but he said he’d be coming in. Someone else saw your father smash the window and break in. By the time I got to the scene of the crime the document was already ash. Mr. Gold is not very happy.” Graham said, seeming nervous by the idea of an unhappy Gold.

“I don’t blame him, I’m in the same boat as he is.” She said, shooting her father a glare over her shoulder.

“Izzy, I had to. You wouldn’t listen to me and I knew talking to that bastard would be useless.” Her father called out from behind the bars.

“I don’t want to talk to you right now.” She snapped, watching as he slumped back down on his cot. “After everything I said to you, you still did this. I’m going to go to Mr. Gold tomorrow and make a new contract.”

“Completely unnecessary, m’dear. Allow me to come to you sooner rather than later.” Said a familiar brogue from by the door, the sound of a cane tapping along the ground accompanying the words.Isabel turned at the sound of Mr. Gold’s voice, meeting his eyes.

“Mr. Gold. I would like to apologize on my father’s behalf.” Isabel said with a humiliated blush, interlacing her hands before her.

“Save your breath. You’re at no fault here.” He said with a wave of his hand, taking several steps closer to her, stopping once he was close enough to touch her. Not that she expected him to, of course. Cold and calculating brown eyes surveyed the room, flickering towards each of the men in term before finally settling on Graham. “Sheriff, perhaps next time you’ll get him before he destroys my important forms.” Gold said with a slight scowl etched onto his face.

“I’m very sorry Mr. Gold. I arrived as quickly as I could.” Graham said quickly, offering a tight smile as he straightened out his vest.

“Oh, I understand, Sheriff. The mayor does keep you busy, does she not?” Gold asked with a knowing smirk, his eyes dancing with amusement. Isabel was positive that Graham had blushed, though she wasn’t sure why there was any reason to.

“Ah, you c-could say that.” Graham said with an awkward chuckle. staring down at his shoes. Gold only sneered.

“Lovely.” He said sarcastically, turning his attention back to Isabel. She could see his gaze soften, and it both enthralled and confused her. “I’m appalled that you’d send your father to do your dirty work for you.”

“Mr. Gold, I swear to you, I had nothing to do with this.” She said immediately, bright blue eyes pleading with dull brown ones to understand, to believe that she wouldn’t do such a thing. She frowned as he chuckled.

“It was a quip, dearie. I’ve accepted that you aren’t trying to escape your fate.”

“Oh, right.” She said, feeling foolish but giggling despite herself. His face shifted to an unreadable emotion, but it was quickly erased in favor of the stoic and hardened mask.

“Anyways, your father’s little stunt only accomplished ruining my window. Luckily for you and I, I had made three copies of our contract right after your signature graced it.” He said with a triumphant smile, flashing it in Moe's direction. She watched her father's shoulders slump, his head hung in defeat.

“That's wonderful Mr. Gold. I'm glad you're so well prepared for these matters.” She said, smiling at him.

“I'm a careful man.” He said with a lazy shrug, smiling just as lazily in return. He reached inside his jacket, pulling out a neatly folded piece of paper out. “Here's your copy. For every one copy that's destroyed, I'll triplicate one.” Gold said, directing the last part of the statement towards the man currently behind bars. Isabel took the contract, slipping it into her purse so she didn't misplace it.

“Thank you so much, Mr. Gold. And again, I'm really sorry.”

“Yes, you will be if you apologize again.” He retorted, a surprisingly playful edge to his tone.

“Oh yeah?”

“Quite.” He said with a toothy grin.

“You don't frighten me, Mr. Gold.” She said with a warm smile. The look he gave her said he was unfamiliar with such an expression. She felt a pang as she wondered if anyone had ever offered him such kindness. As far as she knew he didn't have any friends, and given his reputation, it didn't exactly come as a surprise.

“I suppose I'm glad about that. It does get so tedious having everyone scatter the moment I walk into a room. Yes, someone holding their ground is very appealing.” He said, his eyes traveling over her body in a similar manner to the other day. Ruby's words flashed through her brain, and she nearly flushed as she recalled the waitress's interpretation of their deal.

Out of the corner of her eye, Isabel could watch the way her father was practically squirming with anger. Had he been on the opposite side of the bars she was fairly certain he would have struck Mr. Gold. Graham seemed more confused than anything, his calm disposition a stark contrast to the seething man.

“I would never do that. I like you, Mr. Gold.” She said, giving his arm a gentle yet affectionate squeeze. Had she been paying closer attention to his face and not the striped pattern of his silken necktie, she would have noticed the flicker of tender emotion that flashed across his face.

“I'm most honored, Miss French.”

“You can call me Izzy, you know.” She said gently, frowning in offense as he wrinkled his nose in disgust.

“I don't believe I'll ever call you such a distasteful name. I like you far more than that.” He said, the words making her shift between insulted and flattered fairly quickly. She was fairly confident Mr. Gold didn't very much like anyone, so perhaps he saw her as more of a friend.

“Well, then why not Isabel? Miss French doesn't suit me at all.” She said. Part of her just didn't want him associating her with her father whenever he said her name. She was her own person, not just another French.

“I call everyone by their surname. Always have.” He said with a suspicious look in his eyes.

“Mr. Gold, please.”

“I suppose I could try.” He said hesitantly, looking momentarily conflicted. “Isabel.” She felt a shudder creep up her spine from the way he spoke her name. His accent caressed every letter, the sound of his voice rich and velvety. She was fairly certain no one had ever spoken her name in such a tantalizing manner, and she was very happy he hadn't opted for the overused Izzy, or stuck with the mundane and formal Miss French.

“Thank you.” She said in a suit with a bright smile to match, looking up at him beneath her lashes.

“It's no matter.” He said, awkwardly dismissing her gratitude with a wave of his hand. 

“Izzy, I'm sorry to interrupt, but did you want to bail your father out?” Graham asked quietly, approaching the pair and glancing between them, his face surprised.

“Oh, of course. I'm sorry, Graham.” She said with a light blush staining her cheeks. She slid her purse off her arm, rummaging through it to get the money she brought with her. Gold was watching her closely and he seemed to swallow hard.

“That won't be necessary, Miss French.” Gold said, his hands clasped neatly on the head of his elegant cane.

“What?”

“Sheriff, let Mr. French go. I see no need to pursue this any further.” Gold said, looking as if he was beyond bored of the whole ordeal.

“But Mr. Gold, I-

“May see a rise in the total of your rent if you don't comply with my wishes.” Gold said calmly, and Isabel didn't doubt the sincerity of the threat for even a moment. This was the Gold she had heard of, the one everyone feared. 

“I'll let him go right away, sir. I apologize for wasting your time.” Graham said, fumbling with his keys a moment as he walked over to the jail cell. He inserted the key in the lock and twisted it, pulling the barred door open. “No more smashing windows, Mr. French. Steer clear of Mr. Gold's shop.” Graham said in a stern voice, backing away so he could step out.

“Yes, I do suggest you keep off my property. Next time you may prove to be rather unlucky.” Gold said with a smile that closely mimicked a wolf's snarl, the gold in his mouth glinting in the fluorescent lighting of the room.

“Keep off my daughter, you old pervert.” 

“Dad! What's wrong with you?” Isabel snapped, the blush on her face showing no sign of dissipating.

“Mr. French, your daughter is a woman of twenty-one. She's perfectly capable of making her own decisions. You needn't keep her on a leash. She's a bright young woman, albeit a tad too brave.” Gold said evenly, his cane tapping as he began to walk towards the doorway. Isabel watched him curiously, slightly surprised by his compliments. Mr. Gold clearly saw her as an adult, and it was about time her own father did.

“Mr. Gold, do you have any apartments available for rent?” Isabel asked, making him stop by the doorway. He was regarding her curiously, and his eyes didn't betray whatever he thought.

“Of course. If you'd like to meet to see some sometime this weekend, I'm available on Saturday.” He said, leaning heavily on his cane as he reached into his suit pocket. He pulled out a small rectangle, flipping it over and placing it on the desk. He scrawled numbers down on it before holding it out to her. She was aware of all the eyes in the room being locked on her as she walked over, reaching for the card. She frowned as he tugged it just out of her reach, a small smirk on his face.

“Mr. Gold!” She said in playful exasperation. He chuckled as she snatched it out of his grip, glancing down at it.

“That's my personal cellular number. Congratulations, Miss French, you're officially the only one in town to have it.” He said dryly, his eyes on her dainty hands as she set it inside her purse.

“Thank you, Mr. Gold. I'll call you to arrange something.” She said with a friendly smile, pleased to see he had returned it in his own way.

“Yes, I'll speak to you soon. Perhaps I'll even see you at the ever so prestigious diner. I'll be there tomorrow evening, if you’re inclined to go as well.” He said, and she wasn't sure if it was a request for her company or simply a statement of his plans for the evening. “Should we coincidentally both be there, I would like to buy you dinner.”

“I know I'll be there too.” She said hesitantly, feeling so small in front of him.

“Wonderful. Perhaps I'll see you at around seven.” He said, tipping his head in her direction, a wry grin on his face. He turned and left with surprising grace for a man who relied on a cane, the rhythmic tapping gradually fading out.

“Izzy, please...”

“Father, no. I am tired of all this.” She said, sighing softly and shaking her head a few times. “Thank you for everything, Graham, and I'm sorry for the trouble.” She said, giving the handsome man a tight yet polite smile. 

She turned on her heel and left, going him and straight to her room, which she locked. She was angry and tired, yet also excited and hopeful. She wasn't sure if Mr. Gold had asked her out or not, but she was hoping that he had intended it in such a manner. She would have to get together with Ruby on her lunch break and ask her, as the brunette always seemed to be accomplished at decoding such situations. After sending out a message to Ruby she laid down on her side, blowing a stand of hair out of her face with a heavy sigh. She had a lot to talk about with her father, however presently she was content to ignore the issues and drift into a heavy sleep. Tomorrow was going to be a busy day for her, and she needed the rest to face it.


	4. Date or no Date?

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I've got wifi again and I'm all moved in! Sorry for the delay. Also, I made a mistake and titled the previous chapter the title of this chapter. It has been fixed, so I'm sorry for the mistake. Hope you enjoy!

With the veterinarian's office locked up for the next hour, Isabel made her way over to Granny’s to meet Ruby for lunch. She had successfully avoided her father during her morning routine, even going to work half an hour early rather than taking breakfast with him like usual. The deviation from routine had her thrown off track, but she wasn’t about to just hand her father forgiveness.

She smiled at Doctor Whale as he held the door open for her, a pleased smirk on his relatively handsome face. She ignored the customary way his eyes roamed over her shapely legs, inwardly rolling her eyes at the lecherous man. She, as well as any other woman in town, had long since grown used to such behavior from the doctor.

She selected a corner booth and sank onto the hard seat, catching Ruby’s gaze. Her friend held one finger up with a smile, though it quickly shifted into a grimace over whatever Granny had said to her. Like Doctor Whale’s roaming eyes, Granny and Ruby’s bickering was quite normal, so Isabel simply waited for the battle to end. After a few short minutes, Ruby strolled over, taking the seat across from Isabel.

“Hey Izzy. Granny said she’d bring the usual over in a few minutes.”

“No rush. I’m not too hungry today.” Isabel said with a slight shrug, crossing her legs under the table. Ruby pursed her red lips suspiciously, leaning closer to her friend to speak in a low voice.

“I heard about what your father did to Mr. Gold’s window. Everyone is talking about it.” She informed with a sympathetic look in her eyes, the information making Isabel grimace. She knew none of it was her fault, but that didn’t make her any less embarrassed over the whole situation. She normally didn’t fret much over the gossip, but then again, she was fairly certain she had never been involved in the spreading information. 

“I’m sure they are. No one has ever been stupid enough to go after Mr. Gold.”

“Was it about the deal you made with him?” Ruby asked curiously, keeping her voice down, likely to save Isabel the pain of more gossip.

“He tried destroying the contract. Mr. Gold had already made three copies, so he just wasted everyone’s time.” She said with a roll of her eyes, leaning her cheek on her hand and resting her elbow on the hard surface.

“Your father really isn’t taking this well, huh?”

“I think he has a similar mindset has you did.” Isabel said, heaving a great sigh as she thought back to the way her father had insulted Mr. Gold. She couldn’t remember ever being more embarrassed in her life, and she was a clumsy girl. She had made a fool out of herself by stumbling and dropping things more times than she could count. Any previous embarrassment paled in comparison.

“I don’t blame him, but it really isn’t his business what you do with Mr. Gold. It’s your life.” Ruby said, ignoring Isabel’s huff of indignation. “I guess Mr. Gold is kinda good looking, in a unique way. He does know how to wear a suit. You could have worse taste.”

“Ruby, I really don’t think it’s like that. But he might have asked me out on a date. I’m not entirely sure.” She said, quieting down once Granny came over with two club sandwiches. The older woman smiled at Isabel and glared at Ruby, setting the plates in front of the girls, their drinks following. Ruby waited for her grandmother to leave before speaking, her voice still hushed and secretive.

“What? What so you mean he might have? Did he or didn't he?” She asked with interest, looking nearly excited.

“Well, he said he would be here tonight at seven, and that he might see me. I don't know if he just meant because he's seen me working here, or if he was asking if I'd come.” She said, feeling less and less confident by the moment.

“That's a date. He just asked in a way that says he's afraid of rejection and wanted to make sure he didn't put himself out there too much. You're going on a date with Mr. Gold tonight.” She said, her smile growing, her eyes lit up with interest at the new information. “Wait, are you going?”

“Of course. Regardless of whether or not he meant it as a date or not, I'm going to go.” She said with a small smile, taking a bite out of her sandwich and chewing thoughtfully.

“He was flirting with you like crazy the other night. And he came here last night, he asked me if you were working. When I said no, he left without buying anything. It's most certainly a date, and don't you think otherwise. Mr. Gold has a crush on you.” Ruby said, giggling as she munched on her french fries.

“I think he's a little too old for crushes, Ruby.” Isabel said with a roll of her eyes, laughing softly. The word sounded so juvenile and so unlike the man in question. She couldn't picture Mr. Gold wistfully daydreaming or tracing her name in hearts.

“Well, not a crush, but he's definitely into you. Mr. Gold never comes here unless it's rent day, and then suddenly you're working here and he's here several nights in a row, desperate for your attention.”

“I wonder how he even knew I picked up a few nights here. I didn't tell him.” She said suspiciously, searching through her brain for an explanation of how he would know such information.

“Well, let's hope he's not more of a stalker. Keep an eye out for movements in the bushes.” She joked, both girls tittering. The image of Mr. Gold crouched down and surrounded in brush was humorous despite the unlikelihood of it every actually coming to pass.

“I don't think he'd dirty his ten thousand dollar suits just to lurk behind me.” She said, rolling her eyes at Ruby's antics, smiling nonetheless.

“Look, there's your boyfriend.” Ruby said, gesturing out the window. “Across the street.” Isabel followed her finger to where, sure enough, Mr. Gold was walking. Even with his uneven gait he looked graceful and poised, his natural swagger more notable than his limp. He looked different from the man who had implied he wished to go on a date rather than asking outright. He looked like he was in a nasty mood, but she had been certain that was just his face until a few short days ago.

“Hey, he's not my boyfriend.” Isabel murmured once Ruby's words fully sank in, finally tearing her gaze away to look at Ruby.

“Maybe not yet. Shit, he's spotted us. He caught me staring at him.” Ruby said, smirking as Isabel's cheeks turned bright red. She looked up, her eyes meeting his from across the street. Ruby gave him a wave with waggling fingers, smiling at him with the smile that usually tripped males up. He ignored her completely. “What are you doing? Wave at him, you're just staring at each other. This is so awkward.” 

Isabel lifted her hand and waved at him, giving him a genuine smile, a stark contrast to Ruby's plastered on grin. His steps seemed to falter slightly and he gave her a restrained smile, nodding his head with a half wave. 

“That was really weird to watch, but kind of cute.” Ruby decided after a moment of thoughtful chewing, a small smirk forming on her painted lips.

“It was just two people waving to each other.” Isabel murmured neutrally, setting into her sandwich with a new found passion.

“Two people who have a date in about six hours. I hope he isn't as unsure as you are.” Ruby said with a playful roll of her eyes. “I’m just excited that I get to watch whole date play out.”She said with a giggle, a small smirk remaining.

“Don’t oggle us. You’ll make him uncomfortable, and he’ll never ask me out again.”

“Already thinking about a second date? Izzy, for all you know he’s a total weirdo who chews with his mouth open and makes you pay.” 

“I’m not very worried about either of those things. It’s Mr. Gold. You’re being silly.” Isabel said with a chuckle. “Maybe he just wants to have a business dinner and we’re over thinking this.”

“Yeah, and maybe I’m a bloodsucking vampire. Now that we’re done talking about things that aren't true, I am going to give you advice. If you’re going to have sex-”

“Ruby! Cut it out! No matter what happens,   
most certainly is not on the menu for the night.” Isabel said, blushing a deep shade of scarlet. “Now this has been fun and enlightening, but I need to get back to work now. I’ll see you tonight, and please, don’t embarrass him. Or me.” Isabel said while she stood up, leaving the necessary amount of money down on the table. She shot Ruby one last warning glare before walking out the door, smiling politely at Dr. Hopper on the way.

She saw a tall, heavy set figure approaching her and huffed, recognizing her father instantly. She stopped in front of him, seeing he was struggling with himself a moment.

“Izzy, I'm sorry. I've been a fool this past few days. I haven't been treating you like an adult, and I'm the one who hadn't been acting like an adult lately.” He admitted sheepishly, scratching the back off his neck.

“You're right. You've been acting like a child.” She said, her arms folded tightly across her chest. He shuffled his feet, looking down at the found.

“I'm sorry, my girl. I may not like this Gold business, but you were right, it's not my place to decide for you. It's just very difficult to be a father and have to watch any man express interest in his daughter, and especially a scumbag like Mr. Gold.” Isabel scowled at that, her eyes narrowing. Her father wasn't very good at making amends, that much was clear in his fumbling.

“Father, he isn't a scumbag like you believe. You'll see. I really must be going. I have to get back to work. Don't wait up for me for dinner. I... I have a date.” She said with a small smile. She hadn't forgiven her father. But she was willing to be civil with the man. After all, she was only subjecting herself to awkward silences and tense meals if she refused to at least converse with him.

“With him.”

“Yes, with Mr. Gold.” She said firmly, her eyes saying this wasn’t something that was up for negotiation. And it wasn’t. No matter what anyone said, family or not, she wasn’t going to let them deter her from Mr. Gold. She couldn't explain why, but she was drawn to the man. It was as if she had known him in another life, and she wanted to know him just as well in this one.

“He better be a perfect gentleman, or I’m bypassing the window and going right for him this time.” Her father warned protectively, his face set in a deep frown that made him look far older than he really was. She briefly felt guilty for causing her father to look so haggard, but really, she had done nothing wrong. She wasn’t the first girl to ever go on a date, and at her age it was more than expected but assumed.

“Father, I’m not the little girl who needs protecting from monsters in the closet or scrapes in the park. I can handle Mr. Gold.”

“No one can handle Mr. Gold. He’s the most powerful one in town for a reason. The only one that dares go up against him is the mayor, and I would still bet on Gold in that fight.”

“I don't care for his reputation. I care for him.”

“You do know he's probably older than me?” He pointed out weakly, wringing his hands as he tried to convince her one last time.

“I don't care about age. It's just a number.”

“But he's-”

“Goodbye, dad. I must be going back to work now.” She said, rolling her eyes and walking back down the street. She couldn't explain her sudden apathy, but she found she just didn't care about all these things. His reputation and age were both insignificant to her, and surely those were things that should matter, at least a little. With Mr. Gold, she was utterly indifferent to many things. She just wanted to know him, the real him that was hidden behind the facade of grumpy pawnbroker. She imagined he must be very lonely. as the whole town avoided him like the plague. Then again, perhaps he wanted it that way and relished the solitude. Whatever his standpoint on the rest of the town was, he wanted her company, and she was going to give it to him.


	5. A First Date

The day was spent in a near constant state of anticipation and nerves. After getting home from work she donned a pale blue dress that brought out her eyes but didn’t seem like she was trying too hard, and Isabel arrived at Granny’s at 6:55, and she was immediately intercepted by Ruby. The girl had a bright smile on and looked beyond smug, her eyes dancing with triumph and amusement.

“You wouldn’t believe who has been sitting in the corner for half an hour.” Ruby said in a hushed voice, her smile nearly blinding.

“Mr. Gold?”

“Yes! He’s had two and a half cups of coffee and whenever I ask him what he wants he snaps at me to ask again later. I tried to make conversation with him but he was having none of that. You’ve kept him waiting long enough, go get him.” Ruby said, giving her a push in the direction of the booth.

Isabel wondered why he had arrived so early. Was he truly that eager to spend time with her, going so far as to sit in a booth for half an hour just to wait for her? Or perhaps she had misread things. For all she knew, he could be getting ready to leave, only intending to see her in passing. After all, she felt she lacked the appeal to make a man look forward to seeing her, especially one who was like Mr. Gold.

She hadn't been on a date since she was nineteen, and that date had been a disaster. To say she was out of practice was an understatement. On top of that, she was terrified that they would have nothing to talk about. As far as she knew, all he liked was antiques and rent. Though she often defended him, Isabel realized she and Mr. Gold had had very few conversations. It had all happened in the last few days. Before he had come to her house that day, they had simply greeted each other in passing, which as far as she knew, Mr. Gold didn't do. Had he been interested in her all along, or was this just a friendly gathering. 

She was surprised she wasn't shaking as she took the dozen or so steps to Mr. Gold, and unsurprised that those steps felt like a mile. She was well aware of all the eyes in the room being locked on her, wondering if she actually was going where it seemed. Mr. Gold looked up from intently staring into his coffee, a small smile appearing on his lips as he laid his eyes on her. His mouth opened as if searching for the words he wanted to use, but he seemed to come up with nothing, instead looking sheepish.

“Mr. Gold! I’m so glad you’re here.” She said in mock surprise, standing in front of the table, giggling softly. Perhaps if she acted confident, true confidence would follow. He looked pleased and wary all at the same time, his eyes glazing over for a brief moment before he cleared his throat, the sound gruff and undignified, so very unlike him.

“Miss French. It’s lovely to see your I'm pleased to see you made it.” He said, the small and uncomfortable smile unwavering. His eyes performed what had become the customary scan of her body. She found it didn’t make her at all uneasy, she was actually rather flattered. “Please, won’t you sit?” He asked, nervousness lacing his tone briefly, a shaking hand gesturing for her to join him. She sat down across from him, her smile bright and warm, her dainty hand resting over his clasped hands. He seemed to welcome the touch as his smile turned warm for a second. He turned his hand over so they were palm to palm, the usual warmth of his hand pleasant against cold skin. She had been in such a rush to get to him that she had forgone gloves, the autumn air nipping at her skin.

“It’s really good to see you, Mr. Gold. How are you tonight?” She asked with a warm smile, giving his hand an affectionate squeeze. 

“I'm well, thank you. Though I must admit, the day drastically improved when you walked in.” He said, and she smiled coyly at him, leaning slightly closer. If she had cared to look around, she would have noticed everyone in the diner had gone silent, observing the pair in quiet interest, some in horror, some (mainly men around Isabel's age) in envy. “I'm attempting to find a word to accurately describe how you look tonight, but you've successfully rendered me speechless.”

“You're too kind to me, but I hope you mean the good kind of speechless.” She said teasingly, freeing his hand as he shifted in his seat, looking uncomfortable and concerned.

“Oh, yes, of course. I mean that only in the best way possible. I'm sorry if I offended you, Miss French.”

“You didn't, not at all. Are you alright, Mr. Gold? You seem tense.” She observed, able to see that he was tight like a rubber band that had been pulled, his eyes darting around nervously.

“I just suppose this is new. The last time I went on a date was likely with my ex-wife, and that would have been over twenty years ago.” He pondered, wincing once he realized what he said. “Ex-wives aren't good date topics, I am very sorry.” He added, and she was touched and surprised to see he was blushing. “Assuming this is even a date for you.”

All her worries washed away, replaced with excitement and overwhelming relief. He wanted it to be a date, and upon examination, seemed even more nervous than she was. She could hear the rustling of fabric, presumably his leg bouncing anxiously beneath the table. The feared and hated Mr. Gold was nervous around her, and that was enough to make her own nerves fizzle away. 

“Woah, easy, Mr. Gold. We can talk about anything and I don't mind at all. We don't have to follow any silly guidelines for a successful date, I don't think that's either of us. Which, by the way, this is most certainly a date for me.” She said a bit shyly, looking at him beneath her lashes. “I was worried you didn't see it as a date.”

“I figured that it couldn't have been. I didn't think you'd come if I had phrased it as a date, so I left it hanging loosely.” He said with a bitter chuckle, freezing as Ruby came over. She could see the shift in him. He sat up a little straighter, his lip curling into a slight frown. His eyes went from warm and hopeful to cold and calculating.

“Hey Izzy, hi again Mr. Gold. You two look cozy! What can I get you two?” Ruby asked with a smile, ignoring Isabel's death glare as she held her small notebook and clicked out her pen, tapping it against her lip.

“Ladies first.” Gold said with a polite nod, remaining fairly emotionless now that Ruby was here. 

“I'll have a hamburger, please. With an iced tea.” Isabel said, handing her untouched menu to Ruby.

“Make that two burgers, one with pickles. I'll just have water.” Gold said formally, handing Ruby his own menu, folding his hands neatly on the table.

“Coming right up!” Ruby said in a chipper tone. She threw Isabel a very noticeable wink, turning and heading back out to the kitchen.

“Why?”

“Why what, dear?” 

“Why did you think that I wouldn't to go on a date with you?” She asked curiously, looking up at him with bright eyes that were too curious, too full of yearning for information on him.

“Well, that should be fairly obvious. I'm forty-seven, crippled, despised, and really, just plain unpleasant. I can think of more reasons if you'd like. Women aren't exactly lining up for a chance to date me, so I figured the most beautiful girl in town would never say yes.” He said, and her heart broke from how self-depreciating he was. She had always thought Mr. Gold was confident, even bordering on narcissistic. This was shocking, and she instantly wanted to make him smile again.

“You left out that you're funny, intelligent, handsome, and good company.” She said with a smile, watching the confusion and near wonder flit across his face. He nodded slightly, shifting in his seat and straightening out his tie, seeming to be willing to do anything that didn't require speaking. Things were awkward and tense, and she was cold and hungry. The hard seat was uncomfortable from how thin her dress was, and her shoes were tight, making her feet ache.

It was the happiest she'd been in a long time.

“What do you like to do?” She asked after minute of silence, looking up at him.

“I... I rather enjoy collecting rent.” He joked, looking at her in surprise as she let out a giggle. “In all seriousness I don't have time for much. I like repairing things. Reading, though not as passionately as you.” He said it with a teasing smile. “Which actually reminds me. I brought something for you.” He said, picking up something from the seat beside him, handing it to her. She was surprised to see it was a rather old book. “The Picture of Dorian Gray by Oscar Wilde. It's one of my favorites.”

“I've never read it, but I'm going to start right when I get home! Thank you so much, Mr. Gold. For some reason it's so hard to come by books in this town.” She said, holding the book between two gentle, loving hands, running her thumb down the spine.

“I've noticed that. However, I happen to have two shelves full of classics in the basement of my shop. Or I did, until I moved them to the floor today. You keep that one, but please, come by for more books any time.”

“Did you do that for me?”

“Indeed I did.” 

“Oh, Mr. Gold! That's the nicest thing anyone's ever done for me, and for no reason, too.” She said, tilting her head to the side as she looked at him, completely awed by his kindness. This was the most feared and most powerful man in town. It was difficult to believe that that man was the same as the pawnbroker who set aside his time to bring dozens of books upstairs solely because she liked reading. “That must have been hard with a cane.” She said, phrasing it carefully so as to not offend him. She was really trying to ask if it had caused him pain, but she knew he wouldn't outright tell her.

“I've needed it for as long as I can remember, so I've adapted to it. I assure you it was not bad at all. It'll be worth it if you make use of the novels.” He said with a smile, taking her hand right away when she reached for his. Ruby chose that moment to being their hamburgers over, laying them on the table and smiling widely at the sight of their hands.

“Enjoy you two!” She said loudly as she walked off, making Gold scowl from the octave of her voice. Isabel reluctantly released his hand, pulling her's back to her side of the table, the chill setting back in the tender skin of her palm.

“Miss Lucas seems quite eager to serve us.” Gold remarked dryly, laying several paper napkins down across his lap.

“She was warned about behaving like this. She's in trouble later.” She said, looking down to attempt to conceal her bright blush.

“Perhaps you haven't noticed, but her reaction is the only positive one. People are giving you the most pitying looks. The poor young girl, forced to dine with the likes of me. I'm surprised a brave knight hasn't tried to save you from the beast.” 

“There's no beast to save me from. And besides, who says I want a knight?” She asked, wrinkling her nose at the thought. She took a bite out of her hamburger, eating it as charmingly as she could. It wouldn't do to try to devour the thing in front of the elegant and dapper Mr. Gold.

“Isn't that what all fair young ladies want? A dashing prince on a white horse, sword drawn and ready to defend?” He asked before taking a bite of his own burger, his eyes alight with amusement. 

“I've never been a prince kind of girl. Princes seen so shallow, like there's no mystery to them. I think romance is better layered. Love is a mystery to be uncovered. I love mysteries, so I'd much rather uncover someone who's complicated and different.” She said thoughtfully, taking a small sip of her iced tea as she regarded him. He looked deep in thought, his eyebrows furrowing together.

“I feel as though I've heard that before. You have a way with words, Miss French.” He said, the thoughtful expression never leaving his face.

“You're mysterious, Mr. Gold. I don't think anyone even knows your first name.” She said with a giggle, watching him crack a small smile.

“You're right, no one does. I suppose I'll tell you.” He said, his voice full of sarcastic annoyance, which she realized was a slightly odd attempt at flirting. “It's Michael.”

“Michael.” She repeated, saying it slowly as if she was tasting each of the letters.

“Quiet, they mustn't know.” He said with a wry grin, holding his hand up. She rolled her eyes playfully, looking at him fondly. 

“Have you, ah, thought about our deal at all?” She asked curiously, looking over her cup of iced tea coyly.

“I have. I think I know what I want. It remains to be seen if I'll do it or not.” He said nonchalantly, refusing to look at her, seeming reluctant to even talk about it.

“Can I have a hint?”

“You won't like what I have in mind.” He said simply, finally looking her in the eyes again. He looked as though he was in some sort of pain, his lips twisted into a grimace. Her heart sank as she wondered what he possibly had in mind. Ruby's suspicion came to mind right away, and she tried to push the thoughts out. It didn't seem like something Gold would do, but she wasn't sure. 

“Oh. Well, maybe I will.” She said boldly, looking at him. Ruby's idea didn't sound so horrible. She couldn't deny she felt a degree of attraction to Mr. Gold, and it wouldn't be the worst thing in the world. She mostly didn't want things to transpire in that way. She wanted a choice. So far he had allowed her that much, letting her choose to make a deal with him, letting her choose to go out with him. It seemed like a demand he wouldn't make of her. She didn't think he was that kind of man, but she didn't truly know him well enough to make that decision.

“Very doubtful, m'dear. Very doubtful.” He said with a sadness in his eyes, his lips drawn in a thin line. 

“Well, we'll see.” She said, reaching out and patting his hand soothingly, her eyes entirely too trusting given the power this man had over her. 

“Indeed.” He said, quieting down for several minutes, simply eating his meal, his facial expressions subdued and bland. After she simply couldn't handle the silence anymore, she inquired about his shop, asking about the items within. Though the entirety of her life was spent in Storybrooke, she had never had a concrete reason to go to his shop, or the courage for that matter. He shifted instantly, talking with clear passion and interest in the artifacts in question.

After he spoke of his shop, the conversation flowed freely for the rest of their meal. Since both were reluctant to part, Isabel had casually suggested they go and get ice cream. After some grumbling about his image, he agreed, and they walked side by side to the ice cream stand. They took their cones down to the pier, sitting on a bench in comfortable silence.

“You know, I rather love ice cream, but I haven't had it in years.” He said, licking his cone in the most dignified way she had ever scene. The air was crisp and cool, and she must have shivered, because he pulled his overcoat off quickly, wrapping it around her shoulders.

“Oh, thank you, but I don't want you to be cold.” She said, looking at him with a protest on her lips, but he quickly shook his head.

“My jacket is more than sufficient enough. I can't have my lovely date cold.” He said with a small grin, shifting closer to her. She leaned her head on his arm, her hand curled around his arm gently.

“You're sweet.” She said, smiling to herself, looking up at him. He looked tranquil and content, something she had never seen on his face. She dare say he looked happy, and it was a wonderful look on him, the gentle smile making his face look all the more handsome. She took the time to truly examine him, her eyes wandering over the slight hook of his nose and the shape of his jaw. His neat yet lengthy hair with it's streaks of grey was unconventional but attractive. To her, he was quite handsome in his unique way, the sleek fit of his suits making him all the more appealing. For some unknown reason, she briefly wondered what he would look like if he donned fine leathers, the thought was both startling and amusing.

“Sweet is an odd choice of words to describe me, but thank you, dearest.” He said with a warm chuckle, his hand gently resting on the small of her back. He was warm and smelled of fine cologne, and she felt the urge to completely wrap herself around him, stealing his warmth and his affection. She may have been fairly inexperienced with dating, but she was certain that was too much for their first time out together. 

They sat in companionable silence, his fingertips absentmindedly dancing across her back. At some point she ended up slightly closer, their legs now touching. The moment was the closest thing she had ever felt to perfect, and she was both surprised and honored that it was with the infamous Michael Gold.

“It's getting late. I should take you home.” He said thoughtfully, shifting to look down at her, his hand gently stroking over her arm. She reluctantly sat up off his arm, standing up from their bench and looking at him, smiling happily. He stood up slowly, grasping his cane in his hand, holding his other arm out for her. She looped her at through it, and they set off. It was slightly awkward to walk with him due to his uneven gait, but she quickly grew used to his limp, adjusting her walk accordingly.

He led her the short distance back to the diner, holding open the door to his sleek Cadillac for her. She climbed inside, and he joined her, glancing over to give her a small smile. He drove her home and even walked her to the door, leaning on his cane as they stood outside it.

“I had a wonderful time tonight.” She said softly, looking at him with a small smile. He returned it, stepping closer to her, reaching a shaking hand out to caress her cheek softly.

“I'm glad. I hope you wouldn't be opposed to another evening out soon.” He said slowly, looking at her with a mixture of hopefulness and shyness, his hands clasped on the head of his cane.

“I would be opposed if we didn't go out again.” She said immediately, resting her hand over his. Her eyes flicked down to his lips, an inward battle beginning. She wanted to kiss him, but she was unsure if it was too much too soon. She leaned in, noticing he too leaned in. She was going to do it, she was going to kiss Mr. Gold.

The closer she got to his lips, the more panicked she got.

Her lips landed on his cheek, and she felt like a complete and utter fool. She lingered against his skin, pulling back and looking at him. He was regarding her with surprise, and she briefly wondered if it had been a mistake. Then he smiled the biggest smile she'd ever seen him smile, and she was sincerely surprised he was capable of it.

“You have yourself a lovely night, Miss... Isabel.”

“You too, Michael.” She spoke his name softly, feeling strange calling him it. It didn't seem to suit him, but Mr. Gold also didn't seem right to her. She couldn't quite place her finger on why, but she wanted to refer to him by a different name. She just wasn't sure what name would suit him.

“I hope to see you again soon.” He said smoothly.

“You will. Perhaps I'll be in need of an antique, say, tomorrow at 12:30.” She said, shifting her foot slightly, and he nodded, his face remaining impassive.

“I do believe I have a few of those.” He quipped, nodding as she let out a giggle. He hesitated a moment before leaning in and kissing her on the cheek as she had done moments before. “I shall see you soon, my darling Isabel.” He said, smiling slightly awkwardly. She wrapped her arms around him in a tight hug. He was warm and made her feel completely secure, the arms around her surprisingly strong. His hand gently rubbed along her back, moving in slow and steady circles. She sighed before pulling back reluctantly, looking up at him with a grin.

“Goodnight.”

“Yes, enjoy the rest of your evening.” 

Neither of them moved, simply staring at each other, the air awkward but not unpleasant.

“I do believe you have to go inside to successfully end our date.” He said, his eyes thinking with amusement as he licked his lips.

“You're right.” She murmured, giving his hand one last squeeze. “I'll see you tomorrow.” She said, tearing herself away from him and disappearing inside. She leaned against the door, listening closely. After a moment she could hear the dull thump of a cane against the walkway, the sound surprisingly saddening to her. She walked past her father who stood up, a sour look on his face.

“And how was your date?” He asked gruffly, looking at her with disdain and a hint of disappointment. She wasn't about to let him spoil her glowing mood, so she gave him a bright smile.

“My date was wonderful. Mr. Gold and I had a great time, and we're meeting tomorrow too.” She said simply.

“Are you wearing his jacket?” He asked in shock, his voice gradually increasing in volume. 

“I forgot to give it back. I was cold, and he's a gentleman.”

“You're seriously flaunting it to the whole town now?” Her father asked, frowning deeply. She sighed quietly, pulling the jacket around her tighter, letting it's warm and the smell of Michael wrap around her.

“I'm not ashamed of him. Right now, I'm ashamed to have a father who won't accept his daughter is happy.” She said, turning on her heel and marching off to her bedroom. She was too old to care if her father didn't approve of who she was dating, and she would gladly walk around with a sign on her stating she was seeing Gold. Given her fathers behavior as of late, she wasn't very inclined to pay his opinion much mind.

She laid on her bed, the coat still snugly around her shoulders. She was considering stealing it completely, or at least until it lost his scent. She was warm and comfortable, and felt a near bubbly feeling inside her. It was unfamiliar to her, but she found she could get used to it. She fell asleep with both the coat and a smile on, thin arms wrapped loosely around a too soft pillow.


	6. Firsts

She arrived at his shop at 12:30 on the dot, a bag from Granny's clutched in her hand. She pushed open the door, freezing as she saw the mayor was inside his shop. It was no secret that the pair didn't get along well, and she just hoped she wasn't about to witness a fight. Neither seemed to hear the sound of the bell, or perhaps they were too absorbed in their hatred to pay attention.

“You may think you run this town, but bear in mind who owns it. I can make your life very difficult, Madam Mayor, and I can do it quite easily. You need to stop concerning yourself with my business.” Gold said in a calm yet threatening voice, his accent punctuating the words carefully. He stepped out from around the counter, looking up with his cold and dark eyes. They widened as they landed on her. “Miss French! Is it 12:30 already?” 

“Oh, hello dear. How good to see you.” Regina said with a sickly sweet smile, stepping closer to Isabel. Isabel shifted slightly, her eyes flicking to Gold. The mayor had always made her uneasy, though she was certain she needn't feel that way with Gold around.

“It's good to see you too.” Isabel said shortly, stepping around the mayor and heading over to the counter, standing close to Gold. He seemed to sense her discomfort, closing the distance between them, a hand on her arm.

“So the rumors are true. You two are... Involved.” Regina said slowly, her lips curled in slight disgust as she regarded them, gesturing between them.

“As I previously said, it's none of your business what I do.” Gold snarled, and Isabel was suddenly thrilled that he was on her side. He was almost frightening like this, his body rigid and his eyes narrowed, his hand gripping his cane in what looked like a painful grasp.

“I'm simply concerned for Miss French. You do know what you're getting yourself into, don't you?”

“I don't know what you mean.” Isabel said softly, trying to catch his gaze. He wasn't looking at her, he was simply staring at the mayor, and if looks could kill, she would surely have been a corpse.

“Well, Mr. Gold isn't exactly known for being good company. I can't sit by and let a young girl get mixed up in the likes of him. It wouldn't be right of me.” Regina said, looking at Isabel with sympathy, her head tilted to the side.

“Miss French can make her own decisions.” Gold said, and she felt a pang being 'Miss French' again, given he had greeted her in the same manner. He finally looked at her, and she just frowned at him, biting her lip before looking away.

“I suggest you tread carefully, Miss French. People are talking and questioning if everything is quite right with you. I wouldn't want you to end up anywhere unpleasant.” 

“I suggest you leave now, or you're going to be living in a world of unpleasant.   
.” Gold hissed out, his tone dripping with venom. Regina froze, looking at him with something akin to fear, giving a short nod. 

“My schedule is packed today, anyways. Just heed my words, dear.” She said, giving them one last scathing look before turning on her heel and leaving, the bell chiming as she exited. The moment she was gone, Gold turned her to face him, his finger gently tilting her chin up.

“Are you alright, sweetheart?” He asked softly, and she was in awe from how swiftly he changed from snarling and fierce to soft and concerned. It was startling, and she couldn't help back back away from him. He lowered his hand quickly, looking even more concerned.

“Yes, I'm fine.” She said, reflecting on the events more, her eyebrows furrowing. He had seemed almost ashamed of her, and she briefly wondered what had changed. Last night they had strolled the streets arm and arm and sat closely beside one another on the bench. “Why is it you went right back to Miss French when she was there?”

“Pardon? There's no motive behind it, I was simply addressing you formally.” He said, looking at her as if she was a bomb that had just been detonated.

“It seemed like you were embarrassed of me.” She said softly, not moving away as he stepped closer, gently taking her by both arms. His fingers were pressing into her arm softly, and he was looking at her with near desperation.

“No, Isabel, no. You couldn't have it more wrong.” He said, running his hands up and down her arms, sighing quietly. “I suppose I just wanted to be rid of her, and I hoped being detached could send her off. But she clearly saw right through it.” He explained, regarding her sheepishly.

“I'm sorry, Michael. I shouldn't have jumped on you like that.” She said, stepping closer to him, her hands coming up to rest on his chest.

“I couldn't possibly be ashamed of you. It's like being ashamed of the world's most precious diamond.” He said, wrapping his arms around her waist, looking at her sincerely, and she was touched. She leaned up and kissed his cheek, her hand on his shoulder. “The mayor and I have never gotten along well, and I fear my enemies may become yours. Given that's about the whole town, I'm a little concerned for your sake.”

“You don't have to be. I choose to spend time with you, and I don't care what people think about me.” She said with a shrug, her hands locked behind his neck. She was grateful he wasn't very tall as it was quite easy to have such conversations with him, the element of being almost face to face quite appealing. He was just tall enough that should she slip her heels off, she would fit into his larger frame neatly.

“People are talking, about last night. I'm not ashamed of you, I was simply concerned. Your reputation is being soiled. The gossip in this town can be fairly cruel.” He said, tucking a strand of her hair behind her ear, looking at her softly.

“I don't care. I like you too much, and I enjoy being with you. I'd rather be with you and be myself then care about what people who don't care for me think. I'll admit, my father's disapproval does hurt a bit, but it doesn't change how I feel. No one decides my fate but me.” She said firmly, looking up at him seriously, trying to make the words stick in his brain. She didn't want him to be doubting her confidence in whatever their relationship could be considered.

“I'm not sure what I did to get so lucky, but somehow I struck a great deal of fortune with you. You truly are stunning.” He said, bowing his head a moment, looking to be deep in thought. She was unsure of what to say, his sweet words making her feel shy and awkward, like a young high school girl would. She chose a safer route rather than acknowledge the statement. 

“I brought you lunch.” She said, gesturing to the bag that she had set in the counter, a sheepish smile in place. She turned around and picked up the bag, handing it to him. He took it and pulled the sandwiches out, peering into the wrapping of one, looking surprised.

“However did you know roast beef was my favorite?” He asked, handing her the other one, a tiny smile on his face. She just giggled and shrugged, smiling coyly. He limped over to the door, flipping the sign so closed was on the outside. He returned to her side, unwrapping his sandwich and leaning on his counter, his body facing her own.

“There's so much stuff in here. I can't believe I never came by before.” She said, looking around as she slowly ate her own sandwich. Her eyes took in as much as she could, looking over the artifacts with interest and excitement.

“Perhaps if you had, I would have asked you out sooner.” He said with a smirk, his eyes taking in her facial expressions.

“I was always really interested in you. I just wasn't sure what the interest was until you came by my work.” She admitted, a smile tugging at her lips. She was amazed by his uncanny ability to make her smile so much her cheeks hurt. It was so refreshing to feel for once. All her life she had been content enough, but she had never truly felt much of anything. With him, things felt right, as if she was finally where she belonged.

“I thought my interest was wasted. But I had to at least try. I haven't been interested in a woman in years, and I could only fight the urge to ask you out for so long. I'm a man of little willpower.” He said, his hand over his chest almost solemnly, his eyes betraying the fact that he was regretting something, the emotion in them startling. She just hoped it wasn't regret over asking her out.

“Do you regret being interested in me?”

“I regret the fact that soon I'm going to make a request for you and destroy what we're building.” He said truthfully, looking away from her and focusing on a small clock with a glare, as if he was cursing the inevitable passage of time.

“Let's make another deal.” She said, tugging on his arm gently so he looked at her again, confusion evident on his face.

“Another? Why anyone would actively want one deal is startling. You wanting two is making me concerned for you.” He said dryly, giving her a suspicious look.

“Are you saying you don't want to? You love deals.”

“Indeed I do. I'll hear your terms out.” He said, and in that moment Michael was gone and the infamous Mr. Gold was back, his eyes calculating.

“If you have lunch with me three times a week, I give you my word that this thing we have won't end or change because of whatever you want from the deal.” She said, watching surprise flit across his face, and she was pleased she could surprise him, could keep him on his toes.

“So you're trying to lock me into dates I would partake in regardless of a deal?”

“I am.”

“In exchange for your promise that you'll still date me after I collect?”

“Yes, basically. No matter what your deal is, we won't change. I swear to you.” She said, taking his hand in her own, looking up at him with what could register as a pout.

“I'll take that deal. Though yet again, I'm getting the better end. I'll have to teach you how to make deals.” He said with a smirk, his thumb running over her hand.

“I guess you will. I'm not very fair to myself.” She said with a chuckle, looking at him fondly. 

“I'll show you the ways of a skilled dealmaker.” He said in a low voice, leaning closer to her, his breath hitting her face.

“I'll be very attentive to my lessons.” She said, leaning in the rest of the way, pressing her lips against his in a soft kiss. His arms wrapped around her, tugging her closer to his lithe body, his lips gentle but wanting. Her arms wound around his neck, a hand threading through his hair, the greying locks surprisingly soft to touch. He tasted like coffee and mint, bitter and zingy in what should have been an unpleasant way. In actuality she could see herself becoming addicted to the mere taste of his breathe, and more so to the soft lips on her own. She slowly pulled back, their noses bumping clumsily, and they both shared a soft laugh. He leaned his forehead on her's, breathing in deeply and pulling her hips closer.

“I see one thing I don't have to teach you how to be adept at.” He said with a smirk, chuckling louder as she gently slapped him on the arm, her hand lingering on the spot. 

“You're so... Sassy.” She said, watching as a genuinely offended look spread across his face.

“Sassy? Oh, no, sassy is not an appropriate word for me. I draw the line at sassy, Miss French.” He said sternly, making her giggle, which he scowled at.

“Sassy is the perfect word for you, Mr. Gold.” She said with a smile, watching as he pouted.

“You're quite lucky I have a soft spot for you.” He said, leaning in and kissing her again, his kiss more insistent this time. Their lunch lay forgotten on the counter, the rest of their brief time together spent exploring each other's mouths, light and comfortable conversation filling the gap between sweet kisses..

Once they reluctantly broke away for good and caught sight of a clock, he offered to escort her back to work. They walked arm and arm through town, their walk much more even now that they had had practice. Isabel ignored the way everyone stared at them, some even going so far as to whisper when they thought Gold wasn't looking. People recoiled from a simple glare from the man that was almost certainly their landlord, and she was both impressed and surprised by just how quickly he got results.

He walked inside the veterinary clinic with her, ignoring the strange and disgusted look from her boss. He gave her a small, almost shy smile, taking her hand in his.

“How does lunch every other day sound? We can alternate between the shop and here.” He said, keeping his voice low, private and just for her. 

“That sounds perfect. So on Friday you'll come here.” She said, smiling at him as he nodded. She could see hesitation flicker across his face, but it quickly faded and he leaned in, kissing her softly on the lips. The audible gasp from Dr. Thompson was heard, but Isabel didn't care one bit for the man's shock, as she was more than happy to kiss him at any chance she had.

“I'll see you Friday, Isabel.” He said, stepping back and offering a small wave, keeping his face neutral as he turned to the veterinarian, giving a curt nod. She watched him walk out with a wistful sigh, turning and walking back behind the desk.

“I do not want Mr. Gold in my establishment. It's bad enough he has to be here to collect the rent each month, but socializing with you is out of the question.” Thompson said once Gold had vanished from the windows, his arms folded across his chest. She had long since grown used to Thompson's less than kind treatment of her, and it was hardly even a factor to her anymore.

Isabel excused Thompson's rudeness due to the issues she knew he was having in his personal life. For as long as she could recall, he had been in the process of a complicated and expensive divorce. She was sure that some of his frustrations from it were released on her. Word around town was that the reason from the separation was adultery, and she couldn't imagine the pain one would feel from a spouse abusing the marital vows in such a way. So she was never rude in response, and she ignored his biting comments, deciding she was the better person and she wasn't going to let him bring her down, nor were her feelings going to be bruised.

“Well, sir, why didn't you tell that to Mr. Gold?” She asked with a cocked eyebrow, looking up at him as she took a seat in her chair, her eyes scanning the organizer on the desk. She was quite looking forward to seeing Archie Hopper and his friendly Dalmatian later, and that was about all she cared to focus on for the time being. That, and the way her lips felt, the taste if Michael lingering on them.

“Because it's Mr. Gold. He owns my apartment, he'll raise my rent if I do that.” He said with a scowl, walking closer to her desk, bracing both his palms on the laminate counter tops, leaning in. Perhaps she had grown spoiled from being in close proximity to Mr. Gold's expensive and masculine cologne, but the scent of Thompson's cheap spray made her stomach turn.

“Maybe, but wouldn't you get what you wanted?”

“Simply tell him you won't be meeting here.” He snapped, glaring down at her, his hands grasping the countertop in a knuckle whitening grip.

“With all due respect, sir, you tell him.” She said with a gleam in her eyes that said she wasn't about to budge, and the man slunk away, mumbling for her to send his next appointment in upon their arrival. She knew he wasn't going to tell him, and she was looking forward to Friday more than anything. Gold had her enthralled, and it was the best state she had ever been in. No one could change her mind no matter how severe their disapproval was. He had her falling hard, and she would choose him over any harsh words.


	7. Protection

“Tell me you didn't!”

“I most certainly did.”

“Michael!”

“I told the old bat I was going to raise her rent if she didn't stop leaving her car by my shop. I always keep my word.” He said with a smugness that made her want to hit him and then promptly kiss him. They were sitting together on a couch in the waiting room of the closed veterinary office. Their bodies were angled together and they had both barely touched their meals, too absorbed in the other's company to pay attention to them. 

“You're horrible.” She said, rolling her eyes as he chuckled at her, shaking his head.

“You should know that by now, m'dear.” He said, shifting on the couch and leaning towards her more, his knee touching her own. 

“Guess I should listen to the rumors. Like the ones that say you bought me and pay for me to go out with you.” She said with a giggle. She didn't expect his face to shift, a solemn look coming across his face. He fidgeted his hands, his eyes full of a pain that shocked and worried her. 

“How positively far-fetched.” He murmured, turning away from her, staring down at his half-eaten sandwich. She reached out and laid a hand over his knee, her eyebrows knit together in concern, gently stroking his leg.

“I don't care what they say. As long as we know the truth.” She said firmly, leaning up and giving him a soft kiss on the cheek. He leaned towards her despite his sudden melancholy mood, turning to face her once she pulled back.

“I should get back to the shop.” He said shortly, glancing at his watch, a gesture that seemed more for show than for function. This was only their third lunch date, so she was still getting used to his sporadic shifts in mood. Certain subjects such as the gossip of the town made him tense and moody, and she was constantly forgetting to not mention such things. Despite his upset, she disliked having to censor herself just to keep him calm and carefree. It was something they would have to work on, but all relationships needed work in some way. 

She wasn't entirely sure if they were even in a relationship, if she was to be honest with herself. It was an issue both had skirted around, nerves and hesitance present. She didn't want to make any assumptions and pressure him into more than he was looking for, and she also didn't want to embarrass herself by seeming like an overly eager young girl. For all she knew, she was just something to pass the time, a pretty thing to sometimes look at and take lunch with, an ego boost for a lonely old pawnbroker. She had a little more faith in him than that, but she didn't wish to rule out any possibilities. Mr. Gold was a complicated man, that much she was certain of.

“Please don't leave just because I upset you. I'm sorry.” She said softly, sighing as he reached out, gently stroking her cheek.

“I'm not upset, I simply must get back. And your lunch is over.” He said, standing up and discarding the remains if his sandwich, turning to look at her warily. She stood up as well, repeating his actions and scuffing her feet, watching him closely. Both stared for a long moment, awkward and uncertain, before he spoke, his voice laced with hope. “Will you permit me to call you tonight?” She was shocked he felt the need to inquire.

“Of course. You don't have to ask, you can call me any time.” She said, giving his arm a reassuring squeeze, her bright eyes on his, full of warmth and affection. 

“I'm simply ensuring you don't have plans. Another date or something.” He said, a ghost of a smile lingering on his lips, and she knew then that he was joking.

“Well, I did have plans with Dr. Whale.” She said, watching him gasp, sarcastically aghast. 

“I can't say I'm surprised. All the women seem to enjoy his company nearly as much as he enjoys theirs.”

“What can I say, he is a handsome fellow.”

“I'll have to try twice as hard to be the sole receiver of your romantic affections.” He said with a smirk, wrapping an arm around her waist, gently pulling her closer to him. Her palms rested flat on his chest, her fingers stroking down the silk of his tie.

“You could make half the effort you are now and I would still only want you.” She said sincerely, all humor and teasing gone. Such honest and true words made her feel vulnerable, but she was willing to bare her throat to him, to a man she trusted despite her insecurities. He smiled then, gold tooth glinting in the light, and leaned down. He pressed his lips to her own, his hands pulling her closer to him as her arms wound around his neck. She stroked his hair gently, her fingers combing through the soft tresses, before they both broke apart.

“I shall speak to you this evening.” He said, picking his cane up and gripping it. She gave his arm a final squeeze, and he turned, heading out the door and in the direction of his shop. She watched him until his form was out of view, and she returned to her desk.

“You took five extra minutes.” Said a voice from the office, the tone full of anger and harshness. Isabel stiffened slightly, glancing at the clock on the wall. She was, indeed, late to return to the desk. “And I told you I didn’t want him here.”

“I apologize for being late, Dr.Thompson. It won’t happen again.” She said mechanically, not really particularly sorry for it. She had been in the area of her desk, had someone called or arrived she would have known nonetheless.

“You’ve been slipping lately, and I blame Mr. Gold. I can’t have you jeopardizing my business with how unprofessional you are. I never particularly liked you, Isabel, and perhaps now is the time I let you know you’ve been a completely useless waste of space. You’re a little bitch Isabel French, and you’re f-”

He was cut off by a hand gripping him by the shoulder and slamming him into a wall, a cane being pressed up against his windpipe hard enough to make him sputter, his hand gripping the black stick uselessly.

“How dare you speak to her in that manner!” Gold snarled into his face, pressing the cane against him harder. His face was close to Thompson’s, his eyes wild with rage. Isabel stared in horror, not recognizing the man before her. She had seen him when he was cold, when he was uncaring and snide, when he was disdainful of everyone. But she had never seen him when he was truly angry, his eyes ablaze with anger and disgust.

“Michael! Stop it!” She begged, racing around the counter and over to the pair of them, trying desperately to catch his eye.

“She is the kindest, sweetest, smartest person I know!” He growled, pushing his cane in tighter as he spoke each adjective. She knew Thompson would faint soon, and she couldn’t allow Michael to do that to another person. “And you call her a bitch? I'll make you pay, dearie, and not just in rent.” He said, pulling his cane away and smacking his face with it. Thompson gasped for air as he slid down to the ground, holding his hands up as he looked at Gold, blood running down his chin.

“Michael, please!” She cried out, her voice thick as she tried to keep tears of desperation away, her hand reaching out to lay on his back. She felt him tense under her touch, and he pulled away from her, shaking his head as he looked at her.

“You may want to leave, this won't be pretty.” He warned, raising his cane and connecting it with the other side of his face, a splat of blood landing on the linoleum.

“Michael, please, it's just a word! Please don't do this over a word! It's not worth it and this isn't you!” Isabel pleaded, her hand grabbing his arm once again, and he turned his head, a snarl on his lips.

“He insulted you. You're...” He faltered a moment, returning his cane to the ground as he paced a moment, at loss for words. One seemed to be on the tip of his tongue but he thought better of it, shaking his head. “Very important to me. I won't let anyone insult you, especially not this foolish asshole.”

“Michael, you can't let words get to you. Words from one person who means nothing to you shouldn't mean anything to you. He doesn't matter to me, and I don't care what he thinks. You shouldn't either. Step away from him and move on.” She said, her eyes on his a big, glistening with tears she wouldn't shed, tears she couldn't shed because it wasn't the brave thing to do. It was brave to stand up to a man so willing to inflict harm on others, but it was also just normal, because this was Michael Gold and she would never fear him and he would never physically harm her. But emotionally he had harmed her, this was her fight, her honor that was insulted, and he had lashed out so violently on her behalf. She couldn't shake the feeling that the bloodshed was partially her fault.

He was looking at her as if he was deeply conflicted, looking between her and the man on the ground, still gripping the cane tightly. He exhaled slowly, his chest steady and even, his grip relaxing slightly. She took his balled up hand and unfurled the fingers, holding it firmly between both of her own hands. Her eyes were pleading, pleading for him to halt his assault and listen to her, to realize the error of his ways and cease the violence.

“Michael, please.” She repeated again, his blank face making her heart ache. She heard the clatter of wood being dropped to the floor. Then his walls seemed to crumble before her and he pulled her against him in a crushing hug, nearly squeezing the air out of her as he clutched her to him.

“Sweetheart, I'm sorry. I didn't mean to upset you. I was just so worried he would hurt you, would touch you. I have to keep you safe.” He murmured, a strong hand cradling the back of her head. He was stroking her hair, holding her head so her face was buried in his shoulder, and she couldn't help but hold onto him. She let a tear slip out and into the fabric of his jacket, her fists balled up in the expensive material. The tear was because she had now seen a side of him she found disheartening, a side laced with darkness and violence. The tear was also for the fact that she didn’t like him any less for it.

He had resorted to violence without thought, his weapon drawn up from the ground before she even knew he was in the room. He would have beaten Thompson half to death had she not managed to stop him, and she had a distinct feeling he wouldn't regret it. She could never condone senseless violence. Perhaps if she had been in danger and he had merely stepped in, cane in hand, to save her she would have approved, but Thompson had shown no sign of harming her. 

Michael Gold wasn't like any other man she had met before. He didn't have two or three or even four sides to who he was. He was like a broken mirror, dozens of shards, some sharp and jagged and dangerous and yet still beautiful. Michael was sweet and kind and complimented her meaningfully, holding her hand and car doors. Then he could beat a man with his cane before holding her to him and trying to sooth her, sooth away nonexistent hurt.

She learned a new word to describe him, one that hadn't occurred to her until this incident. Protective. It was clear in the way he was so quick to get between them, so quick to get Thompson away from her. And now, the way he was clutching her to his chest as if she was utterly traumatized. Perhaps overprotective was a more appropriate word for him. 

“Oh love, don't cry.” He whispered desperately, and she hadn't even realized she had started to weep into his shoulder. She was ushered over to the couch in the corner, gently lowered to it. Then she was back against a chest, large hands running over her back in soothing circles. She cried into the shoulder of his expensive suit, unrepentant about the makeup that was sure to stain the charcoal grey fabric. “It's okay, I'm here now. I'll never let anything happen to you.” He said, and she could practically taste his sincerity in the air, the words more of a vow than anything.

“I'm not c-crying because I'm scared.” She said softly, pulling back from his shoulder and looking up at him, her cheeks stained and her light makeup smudged. She must have looked like quite the mess to her, though she was too distraught to fully register the adoration in his eyes.

“What is it, dear? Tell me so I can vanquish it.”

“It's you. What you did.” She said softly, watching his face fall, a desperate sort of panic crossing his features. 

“I was doing it for you. I just know he was going to harm you.” He said defensively, glancing back at the still crumpled man, his arms still around her so securely. She wanted to enjoy the safety his arms brought, but she wasn't a breakable vase and she didn't need a bodyguard, and she certainly didn’t need to be cradled to his chest, not now. 

“You could have just gotten him away. You went too far. Oh, Michael, how could you?” She asked, a fresh few tears slipping down her cheeks. He wiped them away with the pad of his thumb, speaking so softly she had to strain to hear him.

“I can't lose you.” 

“You weren't going to. You didn't have to do that.” She said, sniffling as she pushed off his chest, facing forward with folded arms. 

“I'm not sorry. He deserved it. But I am truly sorry I hurt you, and I will do my best to never do it again. If I'm... Still permitted to be around.” He said, the last phrase added as a fearful murmur, his eyes darting around the room nervously. Gold was truly an anxious man, she realized, and she felt guilty for allowing his nerves to build, not wanting to send him into a panic. He looked as if he was about to jump out of his skin, his body rigid and sweat glistening on his forehead.

“You will be. But today, I don't want to see you.” She said truthfully, turning to face him, a sad gleam in her eyes.

“I'm sorry.” He breathed out, and she watched the panic fester more.

“I'll see you in two days. I'll come to your shop.” She said, the words a promise, her hand gripping his.

“Will you truly?”

“Of course. I just need a little time.” She admitted, wiping a stray tear away and sighing softly.

“Are you angry with me?”

“No, Michael, no. Don't look so nervous, I'm not saying goodbye or anything. Just that I'll see you Wednesday.” She said, leaning in and pressing a kiss to his cheek. “Why did you come back?”

“You still have my cell phone from when you insisted on us taking a photo together, and I needed it back to call you later.” His voice was sad, as if this was the last time he was going to see her, as if the photograph on his cell phone would be all they had left of each other.

“I'll see you Wednesday, okay?” She said, standing up from the couch, knowing he'd follow. 

“Alright.” He said quietly, not even perking up when she kissed him on the cheek. For the first time since she had met him, he looked his age. She briefly pecked his lips, pulling back and stroking his cheek. “That didn't feel like a goodbye kiss.”

“Because it was a I'll see you in two days kiss.”

He only nodded, lifting his hand to her face. He closed his fingers in a fist, dropping his hand to his side rather than touch her, as if her skin might sear his own. She felt some degree of guilt for making him so nervous, but she was upset and needed time away from him and his mistake.

“I'll see you soon, Michael.”

“Yes, Miss French.” He said, and she realized that was his attempt at distancing himself from her, and she was having none of that. She gripped his tie and tugged him down, giving him a fierce kiss on the lips. He let out a noise of surprise, and she was sure his eyebrows had shot up to his hairline. She pulled back, looking at him sternly, watching the wall crumble. “Farewell, Isabel.” He murmured, pressing a kiss to the back of her hand before leaving, his limp seeming heavier and his shoulders slumped rather than tall and confident.

She was well aware he expected to never speak to her again. She would prove him wrong when she did indeed visit him. She just needed a few days to compose herself and attempt to sort out the man's many sides so she better understood him. Michael Gold truly was a mystery, and she uncovered more and more of him every day. Just because she didn't like all of what she found didn't mean she didn't like all of him. Romance wasn't meant to be easy and perfect, and if it was, she didn't want a fairy tale. She didn't want perfect and easy and simple. She wanted something you had to work at, work to make sure it was right and lasted.

She wanted Michael Gold, and all his imperfections and jagged edges. He was the beginning of something special, and she wasn't going to give up on him because he did something that displeased her. She would see him Wednesday, and they would work on their relationship from then. Until then, she would focus on salvaging her job and getting her boss the medical attention he required. He was terrified of her and apologetic, even going so far as to offer her a raise if she was willing to stay and not unleash the wrath of Mr. Gold. She had a distinct feeling she would he treated a lot better from here on. She was slightly worried that he would press charges against Michael, but he said nothing of it and when asked, looked even more terrified. If one good thing had come of the fiasco it was that she still had a job. And, of course, she and Michael would only grow stronger from a little time apart. It wasn’t even a long time, really, so perhaps she was being a bit melodramatic. Even so, she had to work on not missing him so much.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Because it wouldn't be Mr. Gold if he didn't beat someone with the Cane of Feelings.


	8. Dinner and the Well

Isabel thought herself to be a fairly patient person. She was always decent enough at waiting for things to be done, never trying to rush or expedite someone’s progress. Considering her patience, two days should have been nothing, two days practically was nothing. There was no logical reason that would explain why two days away from Michael was proving to be agony. But for some reason, she felt as if part of her heart had been forcibly torn out and ripped in half before being clumsily shoved back in. She felt like there was a hole in her chest, a stifling, painful hole. 

She had known Michael beyond passing him in the street for a very short amount of time. It was unacceptable to miss him so much so soon, and it was almost creepy of her to be thinking of him so much.. She had plans to go and visit his shop after her shift was over, but even the four hours that remained were torturous, knowing she was so close yet so very far. Thompson was being far too nice to her, offering her apologies and offers of raises as if she would call Gold at any moment. He was in a neck brace, and badly bruised up, but no lasting damage had been inflicted.

The most difficult part about her avoidance of Michael was the glimpses of him she would see. During her shift at the diner she had looked out the window and to seen him limping down the street, a briefcase in hand. What hurt was that he didn't even look in her direction, but she supposed he had no way of knowing she was even working. Or perhaps he didn't want to see her after how she had acted, perhaps he was relieved that she had wanted a few days apart. It was a painful thought. 

Her lunch break was spent walking throughout town, hoping to at least catch sight of him. She vaguely wondered if this was considered stalking, but stalking would have been lurking outside his shop and she was not lurking, she was simply on a walk. Despite the fact that she was certainly not lurking, her pace slowing as she passed the windows. She could see his back as he walked through the curtain and into the backroom, and she quickly walked away, not quite ready to actually speak to him

Later in the day she was very surprised when, on her way out to his shop, he was walking towards her, an uncomfortable look in his eyes, one hand hidden behind his back. She stopped on the pavement, a smile coming to her face. He didn’t return it. He looked grim, a haunted look in his eyes.

“Isabel.” He greeted quietly, stopping in front of her. She was about to reach out and hug him, but something about the serious look in his eyes told her this wasn’t an appropriate time for affection.

“I’ve missed you.” She said sincerely, her eyes sparkling as she looked at him. He didn’t react to her words, looking down at his shoes, a sigh falling from his lips. “But you didn’t miss me.” She murmured, watching as a slightly angry look covered his face.

“Don’t say that. You’ll never understand quite how much I did miss you.” He admitted, pulling his hand out from behind his back, revealing a bouquet of red and white roses. She gasped softly, a small smile appearing on her face. 

“Oh, my! They’re so beautiful.” She took them from him, leaning up and kissing him firmly on the lips. She didn’t care that they were in public and that several people had stopped to watch them, eyes bulging out of their heads and disgust curling their lips. She didn’t care that he was a man who made poor choices, that he was a man who acted in anger and lashed out on others. She truly believed he had a good heart, and he deserved another chance, a chance to be with her, so she kissed him passionately on main street. He kissed her back, kissing her like it would be the last kiss he ever shared with anyone, his lips almost painfully desperate. His teeth accidentally scraped against her own but she found she didn’t mind, the kiss still perfect despite what should have dampened it. They both slowly pulled back, leaning their foreheads together, his hand cupping her cheek. Once they came apart she was surprised to see his face was twisted in agony, his eyes closing as he gripped his cane so hard his knuckles turned white.. “We need to talk. In private.” He said glumly, reaching down and taking her hand in his, pulling her along.

The words sent a rush of fear through her. Those four words were not often accompanied by anything good or exciting, and she was afraid of what they meant for their relationship. They had never officially gotten together, but hour long phone calls, lunches every other day, and their evening out stated that they were in fact seeing each other. Could he possibly be breaking it off? She was nearly certain he wouldn’t have kissed her with so much passion and feeling if he intended to break her heart shortly after.

Deciding to listen to her more logical half, she followed him trustingly. She let him lead her throughout the town without a word, though when he led her into the forest her confusion mounted. Her feet ached and soil filled the heel of her shoe, the texture of the earth uncomfortable and moist against her skin. He stepped over a fallen log with difficulty, though he still turned and helped her by the hand.

“Michael, where are we going? We’re alone now. Why can’t we just talk right here?” She asked softly, stopping in the middle of the path, clutching her flowers to her chest. He slowed his steps, looking over his shoulder at her, his face betraying no emotion.

“Because here doesn’t suit me. Come on. We’re quite close.” He said, and she sighed, walking on her aching feet, her mood gradually deflating. It was cold and her shoes were damp, and she glared daggers into his back, her pace sluggish. She was shocked he was able to move through the woods with apparent ease despite his reliance on a cane.

All her exasperation faded when he led her to the old well. The well itself changed nothing for her despite the new and tidy appearance, but the candles spread out along the rim and the step up to it did, her mouth dropping open in surprise. Soft, romantic music played from a speaker hidden somewhere, and there was a small table for two set up, candles lighting it as well.

“Michael! You did all this for me?” She asked in surprise, her eyes wide as she took everything in, her hand pressed against her chest. He offered a shy nod, smiling at her for the first time that day. He still looked incredibly nervous and wary, but she appreciated that he let his guard down, if only slightly.

“Indeed I did. Is it to your liking?” He asked hopefully, stepping towards her, taking her hand in his own.

“I love it. No one has ever done anything like this for me. This is perfect.” She said, squeezing his hand and pressing a soft kiss to his cheek, pulling back with a giddy smile. He led her over to a chair, pulling it out for her, wiggling it in with difficulty due to the soil it was set on. He sat down across from her, laying his napkin over his lap neatly. She was surprised to see a man in a suit come out from the trees, two platters in his hands, and he set them down in front of them.Once he lifted the lids off, fine filet mignons were revealed, and she was momentarily curious as they still seemed fresh and hot despite the distance they traveled. The server poured them both a glass of wine before bowing, disappearing into the woods.

“You deserve things like this. I want you to be happy.” He said seriously, cutting into his meat, his eyes focusing on his task rather than her. He seemed just as nervous as he had on their first date, but that was unsurprising to her.

“It doesn’t take grand gestures like this to make me happy. But this definitely makes me feel special.” She said with a bright smile, tasting her steak, unsurprised to find it was the finest steak she had ever tasted. 

“I may not deserve you, but I will always try my hardest to get there.” He said softly, picking up his wine glass, taking a long sip, a sip that seemed too long given the quality of the drink. He seemed on edge, attempting to dull it with the alcohol, his hand gripping the table as he drank.

“Don't talk like that. I want to be with you. It's not a matter of deserving, it's a matter of my choice. And my choice is you.” She said, reaching across the table and tugging on his tightly gripped hand, pulling it free and holding it in her own. He seemed to relax, if only slightly, his hand giving her own a soft squeeze.

“It's your choice, you say? You truly would choose to be with me?” He asked in slight surprise, his face lighting up, and it was a beautiful sight, seeing him looking so happy, so hopeful. 

“I already am.” She said, giving him a small smile, looking down slightly as her face brightened up with it. 

“I needed to hear that, Isabel. Thank you.” He said quietly, nodding, seemingly to himself. Their hands slipped apart, the emptiness setting in as she pulled her hand back across the table, looking at him. “Are you still... Displeased with me? Afraid of me?”

“I wasn't afraid of you. I was afraid for you. That wasn't who you are. I know you're a good man. You just have to know yourself. I needed a few days to really think things through, to try and understand you better.” She said, her eyes warm and on him, the affection in them unwavering. “You weren't trying to be a brute. You were protecting me, just a bit too fiercely.” She said, smiling softly, watching surprise flit across his face.

“I didn't approve of how he spoke to you. I found it very disrespectful. Blatant disrespect of the one person I care for will not be tolerated.” He said, needlessly straightening his perfectly straight tie as he spoke, his eyes flicking from her to the flame of the candle. He seemed unwilling to hold still, and she was quite certain she'd never seen anyone over the age of ten squirm so much. There was an ulterior motive behind this surprise, and she was concerned and curious about what it was. 

“Surely you must care for someone else?” She said, her heart suddenly aching as she realized what he had said. She tilted her head to the side, looking at him in concern, sadness, and want.

“No one who is alive.” He said, speaking softly, his voice pained and full of mourning. She had never heard such raw emotion from him, and she didn't want to lose this, lose this real side to him.

“What happened? Who was it?” She asked just as softly. For a moment, she thought he wasn't going to tell her. She could see in his eyes that he wanted to change the subject, his natural instinct to close himself off and remain an emotionless slate coming to the surface. He was going to pull away, and possibly never bring the topic up again. She wanted to know this man, truly know him, and part of that was knowing who and what mattered to him. She changed her face, looking at him with near pleading in her bright blue orbs, and she could see his resolve crumble. He took a deep breath, leaning back in his chair, looking up for a moment. 

“I lost him. He was killed in a car accident. He was only fourteen.” He said quietly, staring down into his wine, hiding the pain that his eyes were full of. “You asked what happened to my leg, awhile back. The injury occurred during that accident.” He added softly, gesturing to his lame leg, looking as if he felt ashamed, his pain practically tangible. “We were hit by a drunk driver. Right on Bae's side.” 

She stood up before he could even finish the sentence, coming around to his side of the table. He regarded her in surprise, leaning into her touch as her hand caressed his cheek gently. Once her hand drifted into his hair, he looked to be on the verge of purring, his eyes hooded.

“I am so sorry for your loss, Michael. I can't imagine anything like that, and I'm sorry you know the feeling.” She said, leaning down and wrapping her arms around him in a loose but secure hug. Now she was the one being protective of him, though her protective drive was far less destructive and far more affectionate.

“It's been ten years. And yet it feels like just yesterday.” He murmured softly, seeming to melt into her arms, allowing himself this moment of weakness. She hoped her understood that with her, he never had to keep his guard up. He could show and feel whatever he had to, and she wouldn't think any less of him for it. She tightened her grip slightly, feeling his hand sliding around her, gripping her wherever he could. “That's why I snapped the other day. I don't do very well with loss. I couldn't protect Bae. But I couldn't fail twice, I had to protect you. Even if it was extreme.”

“That's why you acted like that. You were trying to act before something bad happened to me.” She said in realization, her mouth hanging open slightly, her eyes soft. He nodded slightly, his hand resting gently on her arm.

“I've lost so much to other people, so much I care for has been harmed. I couldn't risk you being harmed too. So I did all I could. I acted as quickly as possible. To... Save you.” 

“Thank you for being honest with me. I know sometimes honesty can take a lot, but this time, it was worth it. I understand why you did it. I want you to know I will always be there for you, if you need to talk about what happened. If you need anything, I'll be there for you.” She said softly, running fingers through his hair, the locks sliding through her hair like ribbons of silk. 

“You'd truly want to be there for a broken old man like me?” He asked warily, pulling back enough to look up in her eyes, his own showing all the doubts he felt.

“Once again, I will always be there for you.”

“I need to speak to you now, actually.” He said quietly, his voice shaking in a way that made her exceedingly nervous. She pulled away, picking her chair up and moving it closer to his. She sat down, settling in and taking both his hands in her own.

“About what?”

“Our deal.”

“Oh, you scared me for a moment.” She said with a chuckle, relaxing her grip in his hands so it was loose and calm, just a way of touching him.

“You oughtn't feel anything other than fear right now. What I request of you will displease you. Here, let's have a drink.” He murmured, topping their glasses off and handing her one, taking his own.

“To our deal.” She said with a cheerful smile, holding her glass up. He looked at her as if she was insane, slowly clinking his off of it despite his shock. They both sipped their drinks. “So you're finally telling me about your request?” She asked with a smile, watching as he nodded grimly.

“Indeed I am. I won't keep you in suspense any longer.”

“What is it, Michael? And I haven't forgotten our second deal.” She said, leaning forward and kissing his cheek softly, her hand resting on his leg.

“I fear you'll break it. You're going to hate me quite a lot. I shouldn't even do it. But I need it.” He said quietly, taking a deep breathe. “For my end of the deal I...I...” He faded out, looking down at her hand on him. She had never seen him look so insecure, so nervous, and she had seen him nearly tremble with nerves. This was a whole new level of nerves. She noticed he was sweating, not just a small bead at the crown of his head, but full out sweat, droplets sliding down his skin. She was almost concerned that he was about to have a heart attack, and she took his hand, pressing a kiss to the palm.

“Michael, breathe. Whatever it is won't be bad, because it's you, and I truly care for you.” She said, her hand gently stroking his knee, the gesture seeming to sooth him slightly. 

“You know, perhaps it's best if we wait another week or two. Just to make sure.” He said quickly, his leg bouncing nervously, his cane falling to the ground from the vibration against the chair.

“Michael Gold, please, just tell me. Please.” She said, both hands cupping his cheeks in order to turn him to face her, their eyes locked on.

“I just need one last kiss.” He murmured softly, leaning in and capturing her lips gently, and she was almost certain she felt a tear splash against her cheek. She gently pushed him back, shaking her head.

“You're going to kiss me so much you'll get sick of it.”

“Impossible. You're intoxicating.” He said, his eyes running over her face, focusing on her smile, as if he was trying to memorize what she looked like when she was happy. He looked her in the eyes once again, taking a deep breath.

“Well, Isabel French, for my end of the deal, I would like you to become my wife.” He breathed out, his hands gripping her own, his voice sweet and gentle.

_"What?_

“Marry me.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> There it is, the deal. I've been nervous about this chapter cause I'm sure everyone reading has filled their own thing in for the deal, so I hope you like what I've made his price.


	9. Someday

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I want to start by saying I was pleasantly surprised to find a lot of you seemed to like the deal. I've been really nervous about it for some time now, and seeing the positive feedback really inspired me to continue this work, though I was beginning to doubt myself. Thank you, lovely readers. Your reviews and kudos always make me smile :)

Isabel felt as it she couldn't breathe, and she was briefly concerned that she was going to faint. She had tried to be prepared for his request. She had expected he would ask her to work in his shop, or to assist him in one of his shady deals. Out of all the things that could have possibly come from this, marriage hadn't even crossed her mind. She was a bit hurt that he had had to ask under the premise of a deal. Truthfully, had he asked her in a few more months, she would have eagerly agreed to the request. She was falling in love with him, and nothing could alter that.

But this, this could certainly halt it, if only for a short while. This seemed like his way of making sure she had to stay with him, and it was entirely superfluous. She would have fought for him, and stayed with him regardless of something as binding as marriage. She already resented him for this, and she hadn't even spoken one word about it, nor had she time to properly process what marriage to Michael, or anyone for that matter, entailed. 

She now understood why he had been so nervous, so sure that that kiss would be their very last. He thought she would condemn him. He didn't trust her enough to believe that she would still want him even after such an enormous price. He thought she would reject any future advances, that she would subject him to being part of a loveless marriage lacking any tactile element. He didn't trust in her feelings for him, no matter how many times she told him he mattered, no matter how many times she kissed him and hugged him and held his constantly warm hands. No matter what she did, he doubted her, and that hurt her. 

They had been progressing so well. He had been opening up to her with the tale about his son. He had confided in her, and she knew he never did that, so the moment was special, a moment she would always hold close to her heart. The incident with Dr. Thompson had been a minor setback for them, but it was something she had easily gotten over, accepting that he needed to work on his temper. She didn't see why he wanted a marriage now, why he couldn't just wait until the appropriate time.

She felt betrayed, but despite that hurt, she found she couldn't be unhappy about his request. It wasn't ideal, and she wouldn't choose to marry him so early on. But it wouldn't be the worst thing in the world, and it certainly wasn't the most horrible thing he could ask of her. She was still shocked, and she wasn't sure of what she was supposed to say. Proposals were meant to be cheerful, she was supposed to be holding back tears while she nodded and kissed him senseless. Instead, it was a business agreement. It wasn't like the love she read about so much, but perhaps someday, it could be.

She felt she didn't have a choice in the matter, and that was her main issue with the situation at hand. Marrying Michael should have been something she thought about and agreed to six months, a year, a year and a half down the road. They had only been seeing each other for a few weeks, and while things had been going well, marriage shouldn't have been forced on her.

“Why are you asking this of me? This is something I would do in the future without it being just business to you.” She said finally, listening to him sigh, his eyes downcast once again. Her lengthy pause had made him even more nervous, and she wasn't sure why he wasn't tempering his emotions. It wasn't as if she could say no.

“Because I-”

“I know you're just trying to make it so I stay with you, but this is really unnecessary. I'll stay with you without being married to you.” She said softly, watching him shake his head.

“That's not it. I'm not trying to force you to stay with me. I want to marry you. I truly and honestly want to.” He said, and she could sense actual sincerity, something that both confounded and frightened her. She didn't understand why or how, but he wanted her for something as serious as marriage. It made no sense, marrying so early on, before they really knew who the other was. 

“A deal is a deal.” She said quietly, her verbal expression of the half hearted acceptance she felt. It wasn't ideal, but she was growing to love him, to love his quirks and even the darker parts of him. Someday, when she actually was in love with him, being married would be a blessing, something she thanked the stars for everyday, something beautiful. It may take awhile, longer since he was making her want to withdraw, but she would someday give this man all of her heart. Giving him her hand wouldn't be too bad. He had quickly become very important to her, and caring about your husband was quite important, so perhaps that was the first step. She would do her best not to pull away from him, not to let anything change. It was, after all, part of their other deal.

“I've made a contract, just for our eyes. It states that one year from the date we exchange vows, should you want a divorce, I have to comply. So I suppose it won't be forever.” He said mildly, pulling a piece of paper from his jacket, holding it out to her. It took her a moment before she took it, opening it and carefully reading it. It said things about her taking his name, as well remaining faithful to him throughout the duration of the marriage. She didn't object to either, and she didn't object to clauses about her being added to his accounts for the time being, or about the prenuptial agreement for if they did divorce. He had clearly written this contract as if he expected her to flee within a year.

“You want me to quit my job?” She said suddenly, her eyes scanning the line, narrowing.

“Indeed I do. I think it's a toxic environment, and being married to me, you'll have no need for income.” He said with a slight shrug, his eyes regarding her carefully, as if he was preparing for her to react.

“No.”

“No? Just no?” He asked in surprise, his eyes widening.

“Yes, just no. I'm not going to live off you just because you're rich. I want to continue to make my own way.” She said boldly, tilting her chin up in defiance, her arms folded. 

“But your boss is rude and disrespectful. Surely you don't want to stay.” 

“If I quit, then I get to get another job. I'm not going to be some housewife that cooks your dinner and cleans your house. There's nothing wrong with it, but I need a job. I've had a job for as long as I can remember.” She said, her voice turning stern. She wasn't going to be pushed around just because it was Mr. Gold. She would be her own person, not just his wife.

“If you wish to work, then it is wrong of me to deny you a wish. I apologize. I wasn’t asking for you to become a housewife.” He said, bowing his head and frowning, more frowning, a sight she almost couldn't stand. She missed his smile. She didn't want this to be a business agreement, if it was to be his deal, it could at least be a true marriage.

“I'm not signing this.” She said softly, taking his hand as she said it, making his eyebrows raise.

“Why not? I'm simply trying to ensure-”

“That it's like a real marriage. I don't want it to be like a real marriage. I want it to actually be one. Real engagements don't begin with people signing legal contracts stating what they'll do for each other. If I'm to be your wife, we're doing this right.” She said, playing with his fingers as she spoke, her hand brushing over the large blue ring he wore.

“I assumed you'd want it to be impersonal. Again, I apologize. I'll do whatever you want.” He said, looking at her in awe before looking down at their hands, watching intently, the awe unwavering. He was truly amazed that someone would want him, and it hurt her heart. 

“We may not be in love, but that doesn't mean this marriage has to be formal. I like you, and it may not be a traditional union, but I want it to be happy.”

“You're being entirely too accepting of this. You should be yelling at me, begging me to choose something else for our deal. You should hate me.” He said, looking as if he was frustrated with her, pulling his hands away. He scooped his cane up, standing and pacing slowly, his eyebrows knit.

“What's the sense in making both of us miserable? This isn't the worst thing you could have asked.” She said bravely, standing up and facing him, watching him run a stressed hand through his hair. “Do you actually want this, or is this a game? You should be happy I'm not devastated.”

“Of course I want this. I've wanted this for some time. For as long as I can remember, I've been interested in you.” He said quietly, halting his steps, looking at her with a softened expression. “I expected you to be miserable. My first wife was.”

“You've been married before?”

“I can't even tell you how long ago it was, but yes. We married because she was pregnant, and she was miserable the whole duration of our union. She divorced me, left my son, and ran off with a sailor. Something about preferring to see the world than see my face everyday.” He said, spitting the last sentence out bitterly, anger flashing through his eyes. All his insecurities suddenly made sense to her. He thought she would end up like his ex-wife, a miserable woman who couldn't stand the sight of him, who hated him to his very core.

No matter what, she would never hate him, she knew it to be impossible.

“I'm sorry you had a bad experience.” She said, and truly, she was very sorry. He was a sweet man, at least to her, and he didn't deserve to deal with crippling insecurity and painful anxiety. She never would have guessed that Mr. Gold could be this way, but she was learning more and more by the minute. She had a feeling he would prove to be quite a good husband, given the chance. The woman before had surely never given him the opportunity to show who he truly was, and perhaps they had never truly loved each other, considering pregnancy had spurred the marriage. “But please don't judge me based on what she was like.” 

“You're right. I shouldn't. You're so very different. The only thing you have in common with her is you both don't want to be married to me.” He said, chuckling at his self-deprecating statement. She felt a surge of unreasonable anger hit her as he mocked himself, and she pointed a finger at his chest. He quieted, looking at her in slight surprise, a nervous smile spreading across his features.

“It's not that I don't want to be married to you. It's that I hate the way you're doing this.” She admitted, her hand falling and landing flat on his chest, her palm over his rapidly racing heart. “I'd like to go now, please.”

“Well, wait.” He said, reaching into his pocket, and she was briefly amazed at just how many things the man seemed to store within his coat. He pulled out a small velvet box, a box she instantly knew the contents of. She braced herself for what she expected to be obnoxiously large and attention grabbing. When he flipped the top open, she was shocked at what she saw. The diamond was modestly sized, large enough to look impressive, but small enough to not overwhelm her hand. The ring was in the shape of a rose, the diamond bright and glittering, the band made of fine gold. The ring truly was beautiful, and she felt tears stinging her eyes. “If you don't like it, I can take you to pick a new one. I had this custom ordered, but I will get you whatever you'd like.” He said quickly, obviously mistaking her silence for dislike. “I just thought a rose suited you.”

“It's beautiful, Michael. I don't want a new one, I love it.” She said sincerely, offering him a tentative smile. He looked relieved, pulling the ring from the box, his hand shaking slightly. She held her hand out and he took it in his left, leaning his cane against his body. Once he steadied his hand enough he slowly slid the ring onto her finger, and she was startled to find it fit her perfectly. She held her hand out, watching the way the ring shimmered beautifully, her eyes traveling up to his. He seemed mesmerized by the sight, his mouth hanging open as he regarded her hand, his lips forming into the ghost of a smile.

“It looks lovely on your finger.” He stated softly, tearing his gaze away, looking into her eyes. She was surprised to see he looked genuinely happy, a real smile on his face, his eyes lit up with joy. She may not want to get married at this time, but she would admit she did want to be with him, to see him happy like this more. Perhaps their marriage would make him even easier to get along with, if he was actually happy for once. He was leaning into her hesitantly, his pace slow and uneasy as if she'd shove him back and scream out denials. She didn't move, instead tilting her chin up slightly, their lips touching. His hands came to rest on her waist, gripping at her, clutching her as if she would fade away. He pulled away slowly, looking at her, waiting for the verdict, as it seemed.

“When are we... Getting married?” She asked, the words sounding strange in her voice, like something that wasn't truly happening to her. It was surreal, to think this man wanted her so badly he'd use a deal to get her. It didn't make any sense, but she would question him more later. She would certainly have the time.

“When would you like to? For me, sooner is better. Perhaps two weeks from Friday.”

“Eager?"

“Quite.” He said, and yet again, the sincerity was startling.

“Well, I assume we're just going to have a private ceremony.” She truly hoped he wasn't going to invite half the town just for show, as she didn't like to be the center of attention. Gold was a private man, so surely that meant he would want something intimate. Unfortunately, Gold also liked shows of his wealth, the matter evident in his fine clothing, so she just hoped the former was more powerful a drive for him.

“Whatever you want. I was thinking just small. No one particularly likes me, so it wouldn't be a very happy affair if we had had a bigger wedding. Perhaps your friend Miss Lucas would come as a witness?” 

“I think Ruby would love that.” She said with a roll of her eyes, knowing the girl would be ecstatic to be present. She would also grill her endlessly on why she would marry him so soon. “Can the fact that it's your part of the deal be just between us?”

“Of course. People will talk regardless, but we needn't tell anyone the truth.” 

“I'll invite Mary Margaret Blanchard too. She and I are friends.” She said with a small shrug, reaching for her wine and taking a long sip. She certainly needed it.

“The Sheriff is the only one in town who doesn't wholly dislike me, so I'll tell him to come. I doubt your father will come but perhaps ask him.” He said, reaching out and holding her hand.

“I don't care about having anyone else there. I don't have very many friends either.” She admitted sheepishly, surprised to see him smile.

“You're independent. I like that.” He said, and she just looked down, nodding. She was suddenly very tired, and he kept talking while all she wanted was to go home and sleep. Hopefully she would wake up and find it was all just a dream, and then she could have her lunch with Michael, and they would laugh and kiss, no wedding looming over their heads. “I have a wedding gift for you. At my house. Rather, at our house.” He said, his cheeks tinging with slight color, a hesitant smile tugging at his lips.

“Really? What is it?”

“You'll see. It's something you love.” He said, his smile turning hopeful, his eyes on her.

“I'm sure I will.” She said, pressing a kiss to his cheek, pulling back. “Could we start to head back? It's getting dark, and I'd rather not be in the woods at night.” She said, and he nodded, taking her hand.

“Thank you for joining me.” He said softly, pressing a chaste kiss to her forehead, his other hand caressing her arm. She wrapped her arms around him in a hug, her face buried into his shoulder, and she was thankful for it, because he couldn't see the tears in her eyes. The dark aided in hiding her distress, and they made their way down the way they came, hands locked and mouths shut. There was nothing to say but also so much to say. She didn't know how to say anything anymore, so she settled on holding his warm hand and resting her other hand on his arm occasionally. It was easier to convey things with touch, and it was all she could bear to do, all she needed to do. 

She was surprised to see his car was parked down by the path, and she saw a large man seated in the driver's seat. Michael led her to the back, holding open her door for her and assisting her in. He joined her on the other side, and she sought his hand out, the joined hands laying in a pile on the middle seat. His other hand came up, his finger stroking over her ring, and though it was dark she knew he was smiling. 

She gave him a slow and romantic kiss as they stood outside her door, and she tangled her hands in his hair as they hugged. She felt his lips pressing gentle kisses to her temple, his chin resting atop her head. She just prayed that the affection would stay once they married, because she craved it, she melted from it, and there was a sense of belonging in his arms. She bid her fiancé a goodnight, walking past her father with a murmured declaration of being exhausted, and went straight to her room.

She changed out of her dress and into a tattered old t-shirt, sitting down on the edge of her bed, her eyes blank and on the wall. Then the tears came. She sank onto the bed, burying her face into her pillow to mute the sound of the sobs. The last thing she wanted was her father intruding on her, tonight of all nights. He would blame Gold, and the problem wasn't Gold himself, but the fact that she wasn't ready for what he wanted. She wasn't ready to be a wife, and certainly not a man who changed faster than a traffic light. If she could be guaranteed that she would get all sweet, intelligent, funny, and affectionate Michael, then perhaps she would be happy. There was so much to him that she didn't know, and while she would learn being married to him, she didn't like going blindly into a situation. She needed more time, and all she had was two weeks. Two weeks to learn him well enough to marry him, and two weeks to learn what the rest of her life would be like. So she cried and cried, only stopping when she fell into a fitful sleep, hands fisted into the pillow and burning red skin bright against the white casings, the picture of misery.


	10. Sharing the News

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Consider this chapter the calm before the storm. Things are going to be rocky, but it wouldn't be Rumbelle if it was easy, would it?

Isabel managed to go the whole day without anyone noticing the sparkling engagement ring that was now on her finger. She wasn't necessarily trying to hide it, but she still wasn't sure of how to break the news to people. She would of had no issues at all with hiding it on a normal day, but today was Thursday, and she had a shift at the diner. Ruby would be there, and the girl had eyes like a hawk, so she would certainly notice the glimmering rock. Once Ruby noticed, there would be a chain of people finding out, a chain of smart comments and words spoken behind her back. She didn't particularly care what was said, but she also didn't want to become the talk of the town, though it was inevitable.

She was planning on telling her father once she got out of work at the diner, and she was most nervous about that. Considering his prior experience with vandalizing Gold's property, she was concerned he would commit another act against the man. He would he especially angry if he knew it was all part of a deal, so she would be sure to leave that out. Her father was no fool. There was a chance he would piece it together himself, and she didn’t want to lie to him, or anyone for that matter.

She had a distinct feeling she would see Michael at work, and she was already preparing for the whirlwind of feelings his presence would bring. She was so angry at him for locking her into a marriage like this, but she was also so desperate to spend time with him. She understood his issues well enough to at least attempt to swallow the anger, at least for now. She still loved the feeling she got from him, and she sincerely hoped he never stopped giving it to her. He made her feel like she was floating. The downside to floating, however, was the fall that could result from it. With any luck, he would be there to catch her.

The diner was slow enough that she and Ruby could have time to talk, so they found themselves leaning against the counter. Ruby was talking about the latest date she had went on, complaining about how the guy hadn't allowed her to get one word in. Isabel listened with feigned interest, quite used to hearing Ruby's qualms about the male gender. 

“Holy shit.” Ruby said suddenly, her hand going over her mouth as Granny shot her a glare. She grabbed Isabel by the wrist, bringing her hand closer to her face. A well manicured nail pushed at the expensive ring on her finger, and Ruby spoke in a low, almost panicked voice. “Is that an engagement ring? Did Mr. Gold propose?” She hissed out, staring at the ring as if she was waiting for it to do something.

“Yes he did. He asked me last night.” Isabel said with a small shrug, watching Ruby's draw drop to the floor.

“And you didn't think this was more important than Greg talking while he chewed? You didn't think that maybe just maybe this is a super big deal?” 

“I guess I'm not thinking much today.” She said, offering an apologetic smile. Ruby rolled her eyes, leading her back into the kitchen.

“Tell me the story. You guys have been dating for like, two weeks. What's the reason for this? This seems way too soon, and he doesn't seem like the type to just jump into something this huge..” 

Isabel couldn't lie to Ruby. She was, excluding Michael and Mary Margaret, her only true friend. She deserved to know the truth, and she trusted her not to tell anyone. Ruby wouldn't judge her too badly, and really, Michael was the one to judge here. 

“Are you pregnant?” Ruby asked, her wide eyes flicking down to her stomach, then back to her eyes. Isabel nearly choked on her air intake, shaking her head rapidly.

“We haven't even slept together. I am not pregnant.” She said quickly, rolling her eyes at the assumption. Though it would have explained such a hasty union. “Can you keep a secret?” She asked, and it was Ruby’s turn to roll her eyes, a hand resting on her popped out hip.

“Of course. When have you known me to be untrustworthy? You and I have always kept billions of secrets.” She said, glancing around to make sure no one was eavesdropping on their conversation.

“This is what he wanted for his deal. He wants me to marry him.” She said, watching surprise flit across her face, then a smug smile came.

“I knew it was going to be something extreme. I thought he'd go for just sex, but I guess this is smarter. He gets to be with you, and have sex with you.” She said, making Isabel scoff as she shifted in slight discomfort. She hadn’t given that aspect of marriage much thought, and she wasn’t sure she was ready to..

“I don't think he's thinking of sex. He's a complicated man in the sense he's not really like most of them.” She said, her lips quirking up despite her displeasure at the whole ordeal.

“This sounds like some romance novel. Young woman marries some old grouch she doesn't love, only to fall hopelessly in love with him down the road. I love it.” Ruby said, snickering, her eyes glinting as they again examined the ring. “He's got good taste in jewelry. This is beautiful. Are you excited?”

“I don't know. I'm not unhappy, I'm just annoyed at him. He claims he really does want to marry me, but I think this is some way to get me to stay with him. Though he did say part of the deal is in a year I can file for divorce.” She said, his distaste at the idea of divorce showing, her eyebrows furrowed as she hung her head a moment.

“At least he didn't say you have to bear him a child or give him your firstborn!” Ruby said with a plastered on smile, her eyes dancing with amusement. “I would say keep getting to know him like you have been. Maybe someday marriage will be something you're glad to have.” 

“I know I could love him. Maybe I'm just worried he won't ever love me for real. I mean, once he gets to know me that is. I'm scared I'll fall in love with him and want to be married to him, but then within a year he'll divorce me.” She admitted softly, all of her emotions suddenly making sense to her, the realization both startling and strangely comforting. She was afraid of falling for him only to have that happiness ripped from her. Her and Michael were more alike than she had ever thought. Both were terrified of losing the other, and the feeling was scary considering how short their time together had been. But she believed in fate, and for once, she wanted it to be decided for her.

“Izzy! He won't. I've seen how he looks at you. He's smitten.” She said with a smile, jumping as a Granny loomed into view, her face displeased and her arms folded.

“There's a customer who has waited five minutes. Maybe you'd girls like to cut the chatter and take his order.” She said, nodding her head in the direction of the counter, both girls giving sheepish nods as they made their way out.

Isabel was surprised to see Mr. Gold sitting at the counter, slouching forward slightly, a drink in front of him. She made her way over, leaning across the counter so she was closer to him, her hand laying over his own.

“Rough day?” She asked softly, watching as he gave a slight nod, looking up at her. She leaned forward and gave him a quick kiss on the lips, ignoring the shock and near outrage the gesture caused. It was partially amusing, what a small, insignificant peck could evoke in others. “Do you want to talk about it?”

“I have reason to believe the mayor wants to go to war.” He said, taking a sip of his drink, leaning in towards her so the words were private.

“What did she do?”

“Came by the shop threatening me. She said she recommends I leave you now before your father takes further action. She also mentioned she would side with him in any instance.” He said, scoffing slightly, looking in her eyes. “I told her to go to hell.”

“I don't understand why she's so against is being together.” She murmured in confusion trying to recall any situation where she offended or wronged the mayor. She came up with nothing. “Does she have feelings for you or something?” She asked. and it was a genuine concern for a moment, because surely she wasn’t the only one to find him attractive. He almost choked on his drink, looking at her in amusement.  
“I would say she’s more likely to have feelings for you than for me.” He snickered, running his hand along the counter absentmindedly. He slid it along to her hand. “She's against anyone who is trying to be happy. If she can't have it herself, no one can.” He said with a slight shrug, his hand sliding the ring around her finger casually, his eyes on the glimmer.

“I don't care about her.” She said boldly, watching a small smile cover her fiancé's face, his eyes showing his pleasure. 

“You wouldn't prefer her and your father succeed in their attempts at pulling you away from the dangerous monster?” He asked sardonically, his hand waving as he said it, eyes dancing with amusement. She just rolled her eyes.

“What can I get for you, Mr. Gold?” She asked, smiling at him, watching as he scoffed. 

“I'm not here for the food, Miss French.” He said bluntly, his tongue darting out to run slowly across his lips, making them shine. She instantly felt the powerful urge to kiss him, but she settled for a hand on his arm.

“Then what are you here for?” She asked with a cocked eyebrow, batting her eyes at him. She was so caught up in flirting and playing with him that she forgot the storm of emotions raging within her. It was better for now, to just let herself enjoy a moment with her fiancé.

“For the atmosphere. There's something intoxicating about it.” He said smoothly, edging closer to her, the scene of his own intoxicating cologne filling her nose. 

“You think so? What's so intoxicating?” She asked, smiling as she looked down, lifting her gaze to regard him below her eyelashes.

“I'm looking at it.” He murmured, his accent sounding much heavier than usual, lifting his glass to take a slow sip, his eyes never leaving her's as they do. There was something attractive about the way he was looking at her, and for the moment, he may as well of been sex embodied. She leaned across the counter, her body working on it's own accord, and met his lips again. She could taste the scotch on his lips, the flavor both bitter and delightful, his lips wonderfully soft. 

“Isabel, you're supposed to be working, not getting acquainted to what Gold tastes like.” Granny snarked from behind her, her arms folded across her chest, a distasteful look on her face. Isabel blushed slightly, pulling away from him with a sheepish smile in place. He was just smirking, clearly more amused than anything.

“Yes, get back to work, darling. I'll be here for when you have a moment.” He said, his tongue darting out to lick his lips, an attempt to drive her crazy and to combat a smile, as it seemed. She walked by to take an order, bumping into him on her way, eliciting a rich chuckle. It was pleasant to just play with him like this, ignoring her displeasure at the engagement for the time being. A hitch in her mood was met when she was taking Dr. Whale's order, however. 

“So, Isabel, are you free tomorrow night? I'd love to take you out.” Whale said with a small smirk, his eyes running over her body. She could see Gold stiffen, gripping the head of his cane where it leaned against the counter. She knew he was fighting the urge to bash Whale over the head, and she commended him for the effort.

“I, uh...” She trailed off, her hands coming up to try and convey what she wanted to say, a gentle attempt at letting him down easy. Then she saw his eyes settle on the ring, and she realized it seemed more like an attempt to flash it in his face. His eyes widened, and he looked over at Gold nervously, the question on his lips. She just nodded, and he swallowed hard.

“I'm so sorry, Isabel. I had no idea.” He said quickly, tensing up as Gold turned to face him, a threatening sneer in place. Whale paled noticeably, staring down at his table. “I'm sorry if I offended you at all, and I wish you nothing but happiness with... Mr. Gold.” He said, standing up quickly, leaving a bill on the table despite having never ordered. He approached Gold quickly, a sheepish grin on his face.

“Dr. Whale.” He greeted quietly, the words somehow sounding like a threat.

“Hi Mr. Gold. I just wanted to offer my most sincere apologies. I didn't realize you two were so serious.” He said, rubbing the back of his neck, a nervous laugh slipping out of his mouth.

“Isabel and I are quite serious, so I would greatly appreciate it if you stopped leering at her whenever she passes you.” Gold said flatly. “Please.” He sneered, taking a sip of his drink, his eyes meeting her own. 

“Of course! And congratulations. I'm sure you'll be great together.” Whale said, holding his hand out to shake. Gold simply stared at it, his lip curled slightly, and Whale let his hand drop. “Well, I'll see you next Friday, sir.” He said with a wave, all but running out of the diner. Isabel made her way over to Gold, gently slapping his arm, making him chuckle.

“Is there a problem, my darling Isabel?”

“Yes. You didn't have to be so mean.”

“I could have let my cane do the talking, but I didn't.” He said, making her simply roll her eyes, patting him on the shoulder as she made her way back to the kitchen. Gold behaved well enough for the rest of the evening, staying until close. No one had the nerve to ask him to leave, so he remained seated while the closing proceedings went on. 

“Why are you still here?” Isabel asked, leaning her hip against the counter.

“Why, to offer you a ride home, of course.” He said, and she felt a small smile appear on her face.

“You spent the evening here just to drive me home?”

“It would seem so.” He said, looking a bit sheepish, though it faded as she pecked his cheek.

“Thank you, Michael. I'm done, so we can go.” She said, watching him stand up, stretching his bad leg out, picking his cane up. She took hold of his hand, bidding the awestruck Granny and the smirking Ruby a goodnight. Gold held open the door despite having to fumble with his cane, and they walked out to his car. As expected he held the door to the Cadillac open for her, closing it once she was situated. He was quiet the entire way, only speaking once he pulled into her driveway.

“Thank you for permitting my presence at your work.” He said quietly, turning to face her. 

“Thank you for hanging around for hours just to talk in flashes.” She said, her hand resting over his own.

“It was worth it, though soon I'll see you a lot more.” He smiled, looking at her closely, gauging her reaction to the words. Out of all the things marriage entailed, living with him was the best, to her. She'd been wanting out of her Father's house for some time now. This was an ideal time given how her father had been acting, and seeing Michael more would grow on her.

“You will. It'll be nice.” She said softly, glancing up to her house. She could see her father looking out the window at them and she sighed, turning back to him. “I haven't told him about our engagement.”

“Would you like me to tell him with you?” 

“Actually, I would.” She said, surprised he offered, and she took solace in the fact that he would be by her side. She got out of the car and he quickly followed, making his way over to her.

“You must move slower. Give me time to be a gentleman.” He said with a soft laugh, and she smiled at him, nodding.

“I'm sorry.” She rolled her eyes, threading her fingers through his own and leading him up the walkway. She opened the door and pulled him in with her, walking into the living room where her father was stood.

“Hello Mr. French. How are you?” Gold asked politely, giving her hand a discreet squeeze, his gaze on the taller man.

“Why are you in my house?” He asked bluntly, folding his arms across his chest, eying their hands as if it was the most horrific sight he had ever seen, and she could see he was envisioning prying them apart.

“We have something to tell you, papa.” She said quietly, standing a bit taller. She knew she was about to make her father very unhappy and disappointed. But it was her life, and though it was the deal, she no longer felt obligated to say yes. Had she said no, she was certain Michael wouldn't have done much in means of protest. This was her choice.

“You're not pregnant, are you?” 

“Why does everyone keep asking that?” She asked in annoyance, shaking her head. She glared at Michael as he snickered childishly, bumping his arm. “I'm not pregnant.”

“Then what do you have to tell me?” He asked warily, looking at Gold, a scowl on his face.

“Michael and I are getting married.” She said, making sure her voice sounded excited and cheerful, her other hand coming up to press into his chest. Michael wore a sincere smile, nodding as he stood beside her. Her father was completely silent, his eyes wide. His fists clenched by his side, causing her to step in front of Michael slightly, shielding him from any incoming attack. She wouldn’t put anything past her father.

“You've been together two weeks.” He said slowly, sitting down in an armchair shakily, looking considerably paler. She made her way to his side, laying her hand on his arm gently.

“I know. But... We're meant to be. So we're going to marry.” Isabel said gently, watching as Michael clasped his hands over the head of his cane, standing straight up, clearly quite proud.

“I will not support this.” He said firmly, shaking his head, looking mortified.

“You won't come to our wedding?” She asked, hurt seeping into her tone. She could feel tears threatening and swallowed hard, standing up from her kneeling position. She backed up to Michael who put an arm around her waist, standing closer to her, as if he sensed her upset.

“I'll come because it's my daughter's wedding. I will never approve of this marriage, and I will never, ever accept him as my son-in-law.” Moe said bluntly, and she let out an audible sigh.

“Dad, please...”

“No, no, it's quite alright.” Michael said, holding his hand up. “I understand I'm not the man you'd want your daughter to marry. But I can promise you that I truly care for Isabel, and I will always take care for her, and protect her. She will want and need for nothing, and I will always support her. She will never be unloved. I will treat your daughter as if she's a princess.” He said, and that was when the tears did fall down her cheeks, his gentle hand there to wipe them up. She looked up at him in awe, the sincere and tender words shocking her. He didn't sound like a man who was marrying for a trophy or to get a good deal. He sounded like he actually wanted to be with her, as if he cherished her.

“You better.” He grumbled, not saying another word. 

“My darling, I should be going back to my house.” Michael said quietly, and she nodded, leading him over to the doorway. She leaned up and pressed a kiss to his lips, knowing her father could see. She didn't care.

“Are we still having lunch?”

“Well, you did promise me nothing would change. So you're contractually obligated to continue meeting me.” He said teasingly, making her laugh softly.

“I'll be at your shop at the usual time.” She said, giving his cheek a soft peck, running her hands up and down his chest.

“I have a feeling your father isn't quite done, so call me if you need anything.” He said, and she nodded, knowing he was probably right.

“How about I text you before I go to sleep?” She offered, watching as his face lit up. 

“I'd like that. I'd like that a lot.” He said, leaning in and pressing a kiss to her forehead, his hand gently gripping her arm. She was astounded by the fondness in his gaze, and she was certain no one had ever looked at her like he was.

“Goodnight, Michael.” 

“Goodnight, Isabel.” He bowed his head slightly, taking a step away and opening the door, keeping eye contact with her even as he closed it on himself. Isabel sat with her father in complete silence for awhile, before he finally spoke up.

“You can't do this. You can't marry that monster.” He said, his tone pleading and desperate. “He'll destroy you. He'll break you down until you're nothing but a shell of who you are now.”

“Are you trying to say I can't handle him? Because I can.”

“This is about that deal, isn't it? That sick bastard chose this, am I right?” He asked angrily, his eyes narrowing slightly. She knew she couldn't lie to her father. She had never done it before, and she wasn't going to start as a twenty-one year old woman.

“I chose this.” She said, and it was the truth, because she would have fought tooth and nail if she truly didn't want to marry him. Some small part of her wanted this, and that part was large enough to overpower the knowledge that she  
get out of this. Michael was scared of losing her, so he asked for her hand in marriage. She was scared of losing Michael, so she accepted his proposal. It finally made sense to her, and it was like a weight had been lifted off her shoulders. She was allowed to have mixed emotions, but ultimately, she was doing this to stay with him.

“You're going to regret marrying a man of his age.” He said in warning, eyeing her closely, taking her hand in his large meaty one.

“I've already thought about his age, and I really don't mind. It's not really a factor to me.” She said with a small shrug, squeezing her father's hand reassuringly.

“You marry him, you marry his reputation. People will think less of you. They'll fear you because of your association with him.” He pointed out, squeezing her hand so hard it nearly hurt.

“I don't care.” 

“Izzy, please-”

“I'm going to become Mrs. Gold, and I'm proud of it. You can't stop me. Now please come to my wedding, and please be nicer to my fiancé. I don't want to gain a husband only to lose my father.” She pleaded, watching a softer look come across his face.

“You've always been a good judge of character. If you see good in him, I will try. Just know I am not happy with his. But I also don't want to lose my daughter. When he breaks your heart, you will need me.” He said, and she felt a rush of anger at his words, facing him with her chin held high.

“He will not break my heart. Now if you'll excuse me, I am rather tired. And I have to talk to my fiancé.” She said, kissing his cheek despite her anger, turning on her heel and making her way upstairs. Once there she undressed, sinking into her bed and reaching for her cell phone. She sent him a quick message, telling him she was fine and her father was done complaining, for now. She had just set the device down on her bedside table, it vibrated loudly, moving across the wood a bit. She picked it back up, unsurprised to see it was from him, though the quick timing was shocking. She realized then that he had likely waited by the phone to hear for her, and her heart ached for him, so lonely and timid, but so interested and caring. They texted back and forth for a good half an hour, their talk light and flirty, no mentions of the impending wedding.

When her phone rang next he was wishing her a good night, his text short and simple, the word sweetheart making the length mean nothing and the content mean everything. She replied with goodnight as well, though she took the effort to create a smile with a colon and parenthesis. He likely didn't know about that little trick as she didn't think he texted anyone but her. It made her heart ache to picture him in the infamous pink house, all alone and pining for a girl he thought would never want him. She almost pitied him because he felt the need to force her into a marriage he thought she didn't want. She was his sole companion as it seemed, and he was fiercely protective of that. Someday, she would love her husband to be, and she would be his strength. She fell asleep much more peacefully than the night before, her fears and concerns fading, replaced with a determination. Determination to be a good wife to Michael, and to make him the happy man she saw brief glimpses of.


	11. Witches and Picnics

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry this chapter is later than my usual updates! I've been busy and haven't had time to update, but I should be back on schedule now. Also, I'd love to talk to you guys more than just through comments. My tumblr is thedarkonesdearie, if anyone has one and would like to talk, whether its about the story or just Rumbelle in general. I hope to see some of you there!

“Hello Miss French. How are you today?” Said a sickly sweet voice from the doorway, and Isabel looked up, her heart dropping. It was Mayor Mills, the older woman wearing a venomous smile. Her head was tilted slightly, and Isabel stiffened, returning the smile uneasily.

“I'm doing fine, Madame Mayor. How are you?” She asked politely, resisting the urge to ask Regina to get out of the veterinary office and go far, far away, far enough that she would never see her face again. It wasn't that the Mayor had ever wronged her (with the exception of her constant declarations of the town lacking the money to reopen the library) but the simple fact that she just didn't trust the woman and her toothy smiles and smart attire.

“I'm feeling a tad ill. I'm just sick with concern for you, dear.” She said, stepping closer to the counter, folding her hands atop it. Her smile grew even sweeter, and Isabel was briefly concerned she would get a cavity just from looking at it.

“Why is that?” Isabel asked as means of show, cocking her head. She knew exactly what Regina was going to say, but playing dumb was easier, and she wanted to hear her say it.

“I heard rumors of your engagement to Mr. Gold.” Regina said, her lip curling up in distaste, her eyes on Isabel like a hawk would eye a small sparrow. 

“Oh, did you? Well, it isn't a rumor. We are getting married.” She said, her voice strong and cheerful, spinning her ring around her finger. She wished Michael was coming to her for lunch, because she was bordering on being late, and she knew the Mayor wouldn't allow her to leave until it suited her.

“Dear, you can tell me anything. If he's threatening you, I can arrange protection for you. You needn't fear him.”

“I don't fear him, and he has never threatened me. And no offense, ma'am, but we aren't friends, so I don't see why you're so concerned.” She said boldly, leaning back in her chair, looking up at Regina bravely. She wasn't going to allow herself to be bullied like the rest of the town. She wasn't particularly frightened of the Mayor anymore, and she wasn't afraid to express her mistrust of the woman. She was engaged to the most feared person in town, and she knew he would support her if she just asked.

“I'm just looking out for you, dear. I don't want a young girl to lose herself with the likes of Mr. Gold. He's not exactly a suitable match for an impressionable young girl like you.” She warned, offering her a small, sad smile. Isabel didn't buy her sympathy for one second, and kept a stiff upper lip.

“I can take care of myself. Has my father put you up to this?”

“He and I simply agreed that a man like Mr. Gold shouldn't be allowed to ruin a sweet girl like you. That he should be stopped.” She said, shrugging slightly.

“He's not going to ruin me. He's not who you, or my father for that matter, think he is. He's different.” She said firmly, looking the Mayor in the eyes, determined. Regina's sweet smile faded into a scowl, her hands resting on her hips.

“He's a snake, Miss French.” 

“Better a snake than a witch.” Said an accented voice from the doorway, and relief set in the moment she heard. She watched Michael stride in confidently, making his way over to the counter and setting a basket down atop it. When Isabel glanced at the Mayor, she saw her eyes were wide with horror.

“What did you call me?” She asked, sounding as if she was genuinely afraid for the moment, something that shocked and confused Isabel.

“I said witch, with a W. Don't look so offended, I've said far worse about you.” He said, smirking slightly, looking away from Regina to look back at her. She was so happy to see him she nearly jumped over the counter and embraced him. She settled for taking his hand in her own, resisting the urge to swoon as he pressed a kiss to the back of it.

“I've heard the news. I'm disappointed in you, Gold. I didn't think you'd stoop low enough to force someone into marriage, but I guess more comes out about you everyday.” Regina said with a smirk, eyeing their hands as if they were coated in poison. 

“For the last time, he's not forcing me.” Isabel said, rolling her eyes and standing up, leaning closer to Michael. He leaned in, allowing her to press a soft kiss to his cheek. He looked at the Mayor triumphantly, and she watched her lip curl up in disgust.

“If I were you, Mr. Gold, I would tread carefully. You never know what a father will do to protect his daughter.” Regina said, narrowing her eyes as she looked between the two. Mr. Gold chuckled quietly, the corner of his lip curling upwards. He regarded the Mayor a moment, speaking slowly, as if he wanted the words to stick.

“You never know what a man will do to protect his fiancée, so if I were you, I too would tread carefully.” Gold said, the words so icy they sent chills up her spine, the way his hand tightened around her own reassuring.

“Oh, I heard all about that. You really must control that temper, Mr. Gold. With marriage comes fights, and well... I'd hate to see Miss French hurt.” Regina said, eyeing her in pity, her lips pouted slightly. Gold snarled, leaning closer to her.

“I just warned you to be cautious, Mayor Mills.” Isabel was growing nervous and almost wanted to get between them. Both were radiating hatred and annoyance, and it wasn't a good combination for Michael. 

“Is that a threat? Need I call our Sheriff?”

“Oh yeah, you do love to call on him, don't you?” He said with a smirk, and Isabel watched Regina's smile fade. “Stop interfering with my romantic interactions and focus more on your lack of it. Now, hop up on your broom and fly away. Please.” He said, jerking his thumb towards the door Regina scowled, glaring at him hatefully.

“Don't think we're done.” Regina warned, turning on her heel and exiting the building, not sparing them one glance back.

“I was coming to whisk you away to the park for a picnic. Apparently you needed rescuing from a greater foe than hunger.” He said stiffly, letting his hand fall as her own slipped away. She came around the counter, leaning in and kissing him. He let out a soft noise of surprise, his arm wrapping around her as he kissed back.

“You really packed a picnic for me?” She asked in surprise, looking up at him with a slight smile.

“I've done grander for you.”

“That's just it. This is... Quite sweet.” She said, softly laughing as she ran her hand along his arm.

“I won't have you expecting anything. I want to surprise you sometimes.” He said with a small shrug, picking the basket up, and she tucked her arm through his on his cane side, taking caution with his leg.

“You surprise me most of the time. You're very unpredictable.” She said with a smile, letting him lead her out of the building. It was a beautiful day, though it was cold, so she just hoped he'd be willing to sit close to her in public. 

“So are you.” He said with a chuckle, glancing over at her quickly, as if worried he would offend her. She just smiled, running her free hand along his arm, the warmth he seemed to radiate pleasant. It was astounding to her that a man with such a cold heart was always so warm. His eyes were far colder than his body. But each time she saw him, the steely look seemed to fade slightly, the warmth beneath it trying to push out.

He led her into the park, heading over towards a tree, setting down the basket. He laid a blanket out along the ground, pushing his cane firmly into the ground.

“Michael! Are you sure you're okay to sit on the ground? We don't have to, we can eat on a bench.” She said sweetly, gripping his arms to stop him, looking up at him sincerely. She wanted him to know she didn't mean to embarrass him or belittle him. She was genuinely concerned it would hurt him too much, and she never wanted to hurt him.

“I didn't kneel when I proposed, the least I can do is do it now.” He said quickly, ashamed as she feared. “However, I will likely require assistance up.” He admitted, his cheeks just barely tinging a shade of pink. She kissed his cheek, nodding with a bright smile. She stood by as he slowly lowered himself down, wincing as he carefully stretched his leg out before him. She sat down on his good side, her legs crossed like a pretzel beneath her, her skirt fanning out. 

Before she could even shiver his overcoat was off of him and over her shoulders. She sank into it's warmth and scent, pulling it more snugly around her.

“I just have one question, before we begin.”

“And what's your question?”

“Do you actually own any jackets of your own, or are you trying to collect mine?” He asked, a small smirk appearing on his face. 

“I completely forgot I still had your coat at my house.” She said, and it was a lie, or at least partially. While she had forgotten about it, she had also worn it one night in her room, the way it felt around her almost as if Michael had been there snuggling her. She imagined the real feeling was much better, though she realized sadly she didn't actually know what it felt like. There was so much she didn't know of him, and yet, she was marrying him soon. 

“Soon you'll be around my many articles of clothing, and you can steal as many as you'd like.” He teased, and she couldn't help but giggle, rolling her eyes as she pushed closer. The mention of the marriage wasn't as scary as it should have been, the disguise of a quip making her relax slightly. She watched him as he reached for the basket, pulling out several neatly wrapped sandwiches, laying them before her. “I wasn't sure what kind you'd like, so I made four different kinds.”

“For some reason I have a hard time imagining you packing us a lunch and carrying it in a basket.” She said with a small smile, making him give a small shrug, his lips quirking into a small smirk.

“Men will often do extremely out of the ordinary things to impress a woman.” He said, pulling out two bottles of iced tea, setting one before her. 

Lunch was peaceful and enjoyable, the conversation flowing steadily, their bodies remaining close. He didn't mention their wedding, and he made her laugh until her cheeks hurt. He was leaning up against the old oak tree, his back to it as he sat with his legs outstretched. She was under his arm, leaning her head against him, finally knowing what it was like to be in his surprisingly strong arms for longer than a hug. It was as wonderful as she imagined. She was sure nothing could ruin the moment. She ran her hand along his chest and stomach, a smile etched into her face. The material of his suit felt wonderful under her fingertips, and the scent of his cologne was pleasant as usual, the perfect mix of musk and spice, woodsy and classy. Her hand ran idly through his hair, the tresses soft and heavenly to the touch. He was keeping her body warm, and his large hand felt wonderful where it was gently stroking her hip.

“You're very comfortable to cuddle with.” She said softly, tilting her chin to look up at him. He let out a breathy chuckle, pressing a soft kiss to her forehead.

“Am I? I can't say I've done much of it.”

“Well, it doesn't show.” She said, closing her eyes and listening to his too fast heartbeat, pleased she was the cause of it. Things were quiet for a few more minutes, 

“So, I just wanted to ask once more, if you'd consider signing the contract.” He said, looking down at her. The moment shattered. He had ruined what was on it's way to being a perfect moment, and she couldn't help but glare at him.

“Why is the contract so important to you?” She asked, trying to restrain her anger, her hands pressed against his chest.

“I'm simply trying to ensure our marriage is happy and-”

“No, just be straightforward with me for once. What exactly is this about?” She asked, finally pushing with her hands, scooting away from him. His jacket fell from her shoulders and landed on the blanket, the chill instantly setting in. He looked down at his lap, fidgeting slightly as he tried to find his words.

“I want you to be faithful, and the contract states-”

“Excuse me? You want me to be faithful?” She spat out, hurt seeping into her tone as her heart broke a little. “You think we need a contract so I won't cheat on you? What kind of a girl do you take me for?”

“I don't mean to insult your character, I simply want to make sure.” He said gently, his eyes pleading with her. 

“I can't believe you think so little of me to accuse me of being able to do something like that.” She said, standing up from the blanket, brushing herself off. 

“It's not that I think little of you. It's that I think highly of you!”

“You have a twisted way of showing it, Michael.”

“You're beautiful, surely you'll get better offers.” He said weakly, struggling to stand up, trying to grab hold of the too thick tree. She took his arms and helped him up, unable to allow him such struggle, no matter how angry she was. He shrugged her off, backing away, his back hitting the tree as he leaned against it. “I don't need pity.”

“Earlier you said you wanted help!” She said, unable to fathom his shifts and changes, her arms folded across her chest.

“Not pity. Assistance. I saw the look in your eyes. That was pity. Pity for the pathetic old cripple.” He snarled, his tone turning hurt yet vicious. He carefully bent over and picked his cane up, leaning on it, his face showing the pain his leg was in. 

“It wasn't pity! I wasn't going to let you flop there. It was decency.” She said defensively, backing away from him more. She wanted to turn on her heel and walk away, but she wasn't finished with him. She had to say her piece, to try and make him understand. “What you think of as a better offer, I would think of as a nuisance. You have to trust me, Michael. We're getting married, and I don't want it to be business to you. I'm not signing the contract. My vows to you should be enough.” She said firmly, looking up at him sadly, heaving a sigh as she turned around.

“Wait, I'm sorry.” He murmured, stepping closer and gently catching her wrist. “Let me explain why I am worried you would.” He said softly, stepping in front of her, gathering her hands in his.

“There is no explanation as to why you think so little of me as to expect me to cheat, not when I haven't even looked at anyone but you in weeks. I don't want to hear your excuse. Not today. Thank you for lunch, but I don't want to see you. Until you're ready to forget contracts and blind accusations, it's best we don't have lunch anymore. And don't come to the diner and expect me to chat.” She said sternly, looking up at him with shining eyes, pulling her hands free from his grasp.

“Please, Isabel...”

“Michael, no. Goodbye.” She said, turning away and slowly walking away, wiping muted tears off her face.

“Wait.” He said, and his voice was so full of emotion, so full of desperation that she did wait, turning to look at him, her heart breaking all over to see how devastated he looked. “Will you see me in a few days? And let me explain?”

“In a week. Or so. But I better get the truth. I want the real Michael Gold, not some lame excuse.”

“I can give you that.” He said with a nod, slowly making his way over to her, his hand up as if she'd run away from him. He pressed a kiss to her forehead, pulling back to look down at her. She was seconds away from melting into him, so she pulled away from his softened brown eyes and his gentle, inviting embrace. “I'll see you in awhile.” He said softly, though it sounded like a question, a request of sorts.

“Yes.” She said, turning on her heel and leaving Michael standing beneath the tree. She took a glance back once she was further away, unsurprised to find him staring at her retreating form, his shoulders slumped slightly. It hurt her heart to see him look so dejected, but he had deeply insulted her, so he deserved to feel that way. Perhaps this would make him consider the consequences behind his ridiculous requests and paranoid contract making.

She called Thompson and said she wasn't feeling well and couldn't return, and the ring on her finger made him swiftly wish her the best. In truth it wasn't a lie, she suddenly felt exhausted and miserable, so she made her way back to her house. She put on her most comfortable pajamas, gathered a pint of ice cream and a large spoon, climbed into bed and isolated herself from the world, a book in her lap. Michael Gold was going to learn to respect her and until he did, she would separate herself from him. Her phone vibrated with a phone call and the picture of them came up on the tiny front screen. She turned it off and shoved it into her bedside table.

She devoured most of the ice cream, making herself feel physically ill in addition to the mental exhaustion. She laid on her side, her arms wrapped around herself. It was a pathetic alternative after she had learned what Michael's felt like, gentle her strong around her. But she wouldn't let herself crumble and call him, she wouldn't allow him to be so disrespectful of her feelings and have her affection handed right back to him. Michael was used to saying whatever he wanted and not worrying about the consequences. 

She was going to make sure that he learned she wasn't going to tolerate what the rest of the town did. He wasn't the egregious Mr. Gold to her, not anymore. He was the flawed and sweet Michael, kind, humorous, and affectionate. She knew he had it in him to be respectful, as he displayed it whenever he held doors or assisted her in his foreign chivalrous ways. She just had to make sure that behavior translated to his verbal manners, for her sake.

She took tea by herself and stared blankly at the pages of a randomly selected book, unable to focus enough attention to read it. She was so distracted she was certain she'd lose sleep over this, over Michael. Romance wasn't supposed to keep you up from blind accusations and betrayals, but rather from a fluttering heart and racing mind. 

Someday, she hoped she'd have the latter.


	12. A Father's Love

She ignored the beautiful bouquet that was sent to her at work, and she ignored him when he came into Granny's, Ruby thankfully agreeing to take over serving him. She ignored him the few times she passed him in the street, and she ignored his calls. Life ignoring Michael wasn't nearly as bright, but he needed to understand his mistakes and own up to them.

She stuck to her previous description of him as complicated. He could make her feel so happy, so content, and then he could revert, crushing that happiness. He was difficult to understand, and so paranoid that it could destroy their union before it even happened. She could understand the paranoia if she had wronged him before, but she had been nothing but kind and honest. She didn't deserve to be accused as something as heinous as adultery before it even happened. It wouldn't ever happen to begin with, and Michael had to understand, accept that and allow them to move on from this.

She waited longer than the week, the date of when they agreed to marry approaching fast, and finally, on the ninth day, made her way to his shop. The sign was flipped to closed, and Gold out of sight. She raised her hand and knocked on the door, standing outside and cursing her timing. He came from the back, roughly pulling the door open, clearly preparing some biting comment. He stiffened when he saw her, his hand tugging at the bottom of his jacket.

“Isabel. I was beginning to think I wouldn't be graced with your company.” He drawled, offering an uncomfortable smile. The statement made her angrier than it should. Disguised under the words was yet another accusation of her lack of trustworthiness. “You did say a week.”

“No, I said a week or so. You're the master of words, you should have paid attention to that.” She retorted sarcastically, watching as he flinched back at her tone, lowering his gaze.

“Won't you come in?” He asked softly, stepping aside and giving her space. She made her way through the door and he closed it, having height over her since she she had selected flats that day. 

He stood close to her face, clearly testing his luck as he moved slightly closer, his breath hitting her face. It was then that she smelt the overwhelming scent of alcohol, the smell rolling off him powerfully. Her nose wrinkled as it hit her, and her hand came up to his chest, stepping back slightly.

“Are you drunk, Michael?” She asked, trying to keep herself from being angry, particularly because it wasn't truly fair to be. He hadn't known she was coming, and he was a grown man with the right to drink as he wanted.

“No. Not drunk.” He said quietly, shaking his head, his eyes scanning her warily. He was watching her so cautiously, as if she was a cobra and he was waiting for her to strike. “I was getting there, but I'm not drunk yet.” He said, leading her into the back room, sitting on the edge of a small cot, gesturing for her to take the chair. She said down, crossing her legs neatly, regarding him for a moment. He looked different from how she recalled, as if he had aged considerably during their days apart. His eyes were framed red and weary, as if he had been crying the night before. He leaned forward slightly, clearing his throat.

“Before you begin, I want you to know it's honesty or nothing.” 

“I know. I'll be honest.” He said in that muted tone that he seemed stuck in, his eyes averted in favor of examining his hands, twisting his chunky ring around his finger. “As you know, I've been married before. To a woman named Melissa. Our marriage was not a happy one, and she was utterly miserable with me. She didn't hide it, and it changed me as a man. I was dirt poor back then, I had barely a dollar to my name. I was trying to make my way, I was struggling to pay my way through law school. I was a different man, you wouldn't have recognized me. I had no power.. She left me, but more importantly, she left my boy. She's what made me the man I am today. It made me bitter, bitter because how could she leave my son, how could she leave a sweet eight year old? It made me full of anger, because how could she treat me so terribly when I was trying to be a suitable husband. But above all, it made me suspicious. Especially of beautiful women, because if she didn't want me, how could anyone. She had numerous affairs during our marriage. Dozens of them, flaunted in my face.” He spat out, his lip curled in disgust as the memories flowed through him, and she instantly felt sorry for him. This woman, this Melissa, had destroyed his happiness, made him into a hardened and miserable man. “That's why I was so insistent on the contract. I don't think I could handle that again, especially not with you. You make me happier than I can ever remember being.”

“I understand where you're coming from with this, I truly do. Do you want to hear a story from me? I've had a grand total of one boyfriend in my life. I was seventeen and in high school. It wasn't really that serious, but do you know what he did? He cheated on me. With two different girls. I know it's not as serious as during a marriage where there was a child, but I do understand what that type of betrayal feels like. Garrett made me feel like I wasn't worth anything, that I could just easily be replaced by something better. I would never do that to anyone, I would never make anyone feel that way.” She said, reaching for his hand and giving a reassuring squeeze. He finally looked up at her, the vulnerability swirling in his eyes as he swallowed hard.

“How could anyone be unfaithful if they were with you?” He asked hoarsely, looking at her, his jaw slack a moment. He leaned forward more, his other hand coming up to clasp her much smaller one between two. “I don't understand.”

“What don't you understand?”

“How anyone could possibly do that to someone like you. How could someone look in those eyes knowing they have wronged you?” He asked in surprise, titling his head to the side slightly. He then grew quiet, as if thinking deeply. “I have wronged you, and it's harder for me to look at you. Knowing what I have done to you.”

“You haven't wronged me. You've wronged us. You're depriving us of the chance to get to know each other before working up to engagement that makes both of us beyond happy. You’re depriving us of more nights on the phone. You're taking away the fuzzy feeling I get when I know I'm seeing you soon, because soon I'm going to wake up with you and go to sleep with you. That's wonderful, but for when we're ready, not for your own selfish desires.” She said, making his eyes widen slightly, shock flitting across his face. “Since we're doing this you should know I'm your equal, and I'm not going to let you push me around like you do everyone else.”

“I want you to be my equal. You're to be my wife, and I will treat you with the utmost respect.” He said immediately, and she knew he meant it, but she also knew he wasn't entirely aware of what respect meant. He know how to be respected, how to solicit it from just about everyone in town. But Michael Gold did not know how to give it to someone else. She would have to teach him, and while it would be a long ride, she had a feeling they would be okay after everything was settled. Love would come of this marriage, and she was fairly confident in that, considering how strongly they already felt. She had always been known for being optimistic, and now was no exception.

“I will make sure you do. But you have to trust me to. I'm not asking much of you, not compared to what you're asking of me. I'm just asking to be respected, and to be trusted. That's it, Michael. I’m not asking for the world..” She said, laying her other hand over their joined pile, watching as he nodded. 

“You may only be asking for those things, but I promise, I will give you so much more.” He said sincerely, squeezing her hand between his two gently, smiling at her. “I'll do my best to give you whatever you want and need. I’ll try to give you the world, even if you don’t ask.”

“I know you will. I know you'll try your hardest.”

“Harder than that. What's the saying? A happy wife is a happy life?” He chuckled softly, and she cracked a small smile, nodding her head in agreement. “Are you still angry with me?”

“A little.”

“Please, find it in yourself to forgive me.” He said softly, looking at her, the plea in his brown eyes evident. “I am so sorry to have upset you, and I truly mean that. I am sorry.”

“I understand why you're so concerned about this. I just want you to stop holding me to the same standard as your previous wife. Keep in mind that I'm not her, and I won't treat you the way she did. From what you've said she sounds extremely different compared to me.” She said, and he let out a soft chuckle.

“Like night and day. She'd be the night. Cold, dreary. Which makes you the light. The flicker of bright light that is the day. Warm, comforting, enjoyable.” He said thoughtfully, and she smiled then, a full and true smile. He gazed at her a moment, his head tilting slightly to the side, his eyes lowering to her mouth.

“Sometimes you sound more like a poet than a pawnbroker.” She teased, running her hand over his as she saw embarrassment flit across his face.

“I'm a lawyer. We know how to use words to get a desired result.” He pointed out, leaning down and kissing her hand atop the stack, smiling fondly. “That's not to say it isn't completely true, of course.”

“Well, keep that in mind then. You'll be a lot happier if you don't keep suspecting me of things.” She said, and he smiled sheepishly, watching as she stood up and took a seat beside him on the cot. 

“Am I forgiven?”

“Hmm...”

“I am so sorry, my dear Isabel.” He whispered, regret heavy in his tone, and she knew he meant it. He truly was sorry.

“I forgive you. Just stop accusing me of ridiculous things before I show signs of them.” She said softly, and he nodded immediately. 

Their mess of hands came apart and he stroked her hair behind her ear, leaning in slowly. She tilted her chin up and caught him in a deep kiss, her arms wrapping around his neck to hold him place. His kiss was hungry yet restrained, his hands staying on her hips and trembling slightly, as if he was resisting from running them over every inch of her body. She ran her tongue across his lip, seeking the entrance he immediately granted, his tongue meeting her own. He pushed his body against her, the trim and lithe form lining up nicely as her hands ran through his hair. His body seemed to act on it's own accord as he pressed her down onto the bed, her legs shifting apart to accommodate him. She vaguely registered that this was the furthest her touches with anyone had ever gone, and she was aware of where Michael's mind was. It was evident in the firm bulge pressing against her. His lips moved down her jaw and to her neck, kissing and gently sucking the soft, tender skin, his hand running along her side. She let out a tiny gasp as his teeth gently nibbled, her hand gripping his hair a bit tighter. Her leg came around his waist, pulling him closer. His hand slid her shirt up, perhaps accidentally, but it brought his hand in contact with her bare side. The bulge pressed more firmly into her, and the room was suddenly stifling hot, the cot far too small, and Michael's body too heavy on her smaller frame. Part of her wanted him off, but part of her wanted to pull him even closer. The parts warred as he kissed her lips again, his hand roaming her body. He groaned softly and the sound went straight to her core. A tiny voice in her head nagged her to push him off, to ask him to stop. 

“You tensed. Are you alright, sweetheart?” He asked, pulling away from her lips, gently cupping her cheek in a strong hand. It was as if he could read her, and she shook her head slowly. “We can stop.” He said quickly, carefully maneuvering off her, stretching his bad leg along the bed as he sat. He buttoned his suit jacket in an attempt to conceal the noticeable reaction she felt almost flattered at causing. 

“I'm sorry, I just-”

“No, do not apologize. I wasn't being very gentlemanly.” He said quickly, giving her a tight smile and sitting up straighter. She slowly sat up as well, laying a hand on his arm.

“It's just that I'm saving myself for marriage.” She said coyly, watching his lips quirk up into a small smile. 

“Oh, are you? How lovely is that.” He breathed out, making a small noise as she laid her hand across his leg. 

“And not in the backroom of a pawnshop.” She said with a giggle, listening to the warm sound of his chuckle. The mutual amusement made the moment slightly less awkward, and for that she was grateful, because she knew her cheeks were already the brightest red.

“It's not exactly a romantic location for a pivotal aspect of our relationship. You deserve more than that.” He said, kissing her softly on the forehead, wrapping an arm around her. Her hand came up to rest on his stomach, her head moving to his chest. He leaned back with her in his grip, and they laid there on the cot. She was still offended, still hurt and unsure by his lack of trust, but she was willing to forgive him. This moment with him was worth it, she thought as her head was pillowed on his chest, his fingers running through her hair. She felt a foreign feeling building in her stomach, a rustling of butterflies and a swirl of emotions. It felt terrifying and invigorating all at once, like a feeling you wanted and yet feared.

Within a few minutes she heard the ding of the bell and sighed, tilting her head up to look at him. He looked exasperated and ran his hand along her arm, slowly sitting up. He stood up, looking down at her.

“You can stay back here, if you'd like. I guess I'll have to remember to lock the door next time.” He said with a chuckle, causing her to laugh softly.

“I'll be right out. I just need a minute.” She said with a smile, returning his small kiss with a smile. He made his way out and she searched for a mirror, fixing her hair as best she could. It was messy and ruffled, and the still pink hue to her cheeks made it look like they'd been doing more than embracing. She made her way to the curtain, surprised to hear the voice of her father.

“Please, Gold, I'll give you my shop. Just don't marry her.”

“Well Mr. French, I think your daughter is worth far more than a flower shop.” He said sarcastically, and she could picture the look on his face, the amused quirk of his lips. “And you're forgetting I already own it.”

“I'll give you whatever. Anything, just don't marry her.” He pleaded, and Isabel felt a surge of anger towards him, her fists tight by her side. The fact that he thought he could bargain for her was insulting.

“You don't have anything I want.”

“There must be something.” He said, and she could hear the desperation, and it made her all the more angry. She didn't need him to save her, and she didn't want this interference. The fact that he went behind her back hurt, especially after agreeing to attend the wedding for her.

“There is one thing I want.” He said, and Isabel's heart sank, her gaze dropping to the floor. It should have been a relief, but it felt more like a smack in the face. To think she had a price tag in their eyes was hurtful, and she hadn't thought Michael would be swayed.

“Anything.”

“How about... Your daughter's hand in marriage?” He quipped, and she knew he was smirking, and she breathed a sigh of relief, and then swallowed nervously at her own relief. She chose then to make her way out from behind the curtain, and her father gasped.

“Izzy! I... I didn't know you were here! How much did you hear?” He asked nervously, and she walked forward, standing behind the counter, beside Michael. He stood tall beside her and she decided to ignore the smug smirk on his face, folding her arms as she looked at her father.

“Enough. Enough to know you don't respect me and my wishes.” She said, letting out a heavy sigh, trying to fight off the tears that stung her eyes. Her arms fell limply by her side. She felt Michael reach for her hand behind the counter, squeezing it gently, and she was again astounded by how closely he paid attention to her moods. It was clear he cared about her, and at the moment, that much couldn't be said for her own father.

“That's not true, my dear girl! I'm only trying to help you! This man is... This man is a beast.” He said, causing Michael to lay a hand over his chest, gasping in mock hurt.

“No he isn't. He's the one treating me like I'm a person, like I matter.” She breathed in, turning to face Michael. “Could I move in early?”

“Of course. You can move in tonight if you'd like.” He said, a smile spreading across his face. He seemed to be rather pleased about this turn of events. She was too angry with her father to care.

“Izzy, no! Stay with me, where you belong.” 

“Where I belong is a matter for me to decide. And I've made my decision. I shall move in with Michael tonight.” She said, finality in her tone, her head held high. “You're not deciding for me anymore.”

“Please, you're making the wrong choice. Choose me, I'm your family. You're all I've got.” He said, and she gripped Michael's hand a bit harder, trying not to break from the guilt that was building.

“I'm still your family. But until you respect me and my choices, even those you don't agree with, I think it's best we not see each other.” She said boldly, watching her father's face shift from desperation to defeat.

“I'm sorry, Isabel.”

“Goodbye, Father. Leave now, please.” She said, watching conflict appear on his face. 

“No, I-”

“She said leave. Respect her wishes, or I'll have to make you.” Michael said, cutting him off in an authoritative voice, his hand picking his cane up. She knew the gesture and laid her hand over his, shooting him a look. Her father turned on his heel and stormed out, slamming the door and making the bell ring loudly. “Be careful with my bell, Mr. French!” He called out with a smirk, looking down at her.

“Did you want that to happen? Us to fight?”

“Of course not.” He assured, looking at her sincerely, holding his hand up in defense. “I don't want to make you lose people to the point I'm all there is. That wasn't my intention.”

“I believe you, but it seems that's what's going to happen. Graham and Ruby are the only ones treating me the same.” She informed, surprised to see genuine guilt spread across his face.

“Perhaps I've been selfish.”

“Yeah, perhaps.”

“Isabel, please.” He murmured, his face twisting into an unreadable expression. “I don't want to fight more. Not today.”

“Me neither.” She admitted, leaning her cheek on his chest, peeking up at him. He wrapped his arm around her, rubbing his hand up and down her arm.

“Bell.” He muttered, looking as though he was thinking deeply. She didn't understand why the bell was such a big deal.

“It's fine.”

“No, I mean... Belle. Isabel.” He said, and she felt a jealous pang at the way it rolled off his tongue compared to her real name. As if it was a name he was meant to say. “Izzy is a horrid nickname, but Belle is a lovely one.” He said, again saying the name as if he was tasting it. It sent a chill up her spine, and she nodded.

“Then call me Belle.”

“I think I shall. It feels right. Belle means beauty, you know. So it's very appropriate.” He said, toying with the ring on her finger, his eyes on her face. She felt a brush spread across her cheeks and she looked down, smiling slightly.

“You really think that?”

“I think it's a shame Belle doesn't mean perfect.” He whispered, and she couldn't stop herself from giving him a deep kiss, robbing them both of their breath and gifting them both with smiles.

“You really make me feel it.” She said softly, running her hand along his abdomen. “Perfect, I mean. Beautiful.”

“Good. You should feel those things.” He said, and she pressed closer, wanting to make him feel just as good with physical affection. “Did you really want to move in tonight?”

“As long as it's really okay.” 

“Of course. I'll send some people over to help with your things. I'll just make a few calls and help you as best I can, though I'm fairly useless with lifting.” He said, gesturing down to his leg sheepishly, and her heart ached, because he was so self-conscious about something that wasn't controllable.

“Well, then you can help me with the actual boxing stuff up.” She said, watching as he lit up, pleased with once again being useful.

“That I can do fairly well.” He said, pulling his phone out and a Storybrooke phone book.

“Who are you going to call?”

“Dove, of course. I'll also call Leroy. He was late on rent so this will save him his apartment.” He said, shrugging slightly as he flipped through the phone book. 

“Who still uses phone books?” She asked teasingly, watching a slight smile spread across his face, his shoulders dipping as he looked up at her.

“Evidently me.” He said, chuckling softly, his arm coming around her waist to pull her in closer. “I know Dove's number, it's simply been awhile since I've called Leroy. I don't keep numbers in my phone. I just have you, Dove, and my accountant.”

“Well, I feel special.” She said, watching as he left the book open, giving her a small smile. 

“You are.” He said, and then he kissed her so deeply, so meaningfully that for the moment, it was all she believed to be true.


	13. Moving On In

“It saves space if you fold clothing neatly. Your folding is disgraceful.” Michael snapped, glaring at her as she piled a variety of clothing inside a box.

“It doesn't matter, I'm just going to unpack it right away.” She retorted, rolling her eyes as he neatly folded up her blouses, setting them inside the box delicately.

“Your uneven folding will add approximately two boxes to the load.”

“What do you care, you're not even lifting them!”

“But I have to help you unpack them, so it's more work later.” He said, throwing his hands up in exasperation, turning to face her head on.

“You sure you two ain't already married?” Leroy said with a smirk, carrying a box as he passed. The words caused Isabel to blush slightly and Michael to smirk, shrugging. They were side by side in front of her tiny but overstuffed closet. Several boxes had already been packed up, Dove and Leroy moving them swiftly and attentively. 

“Not yet, dearie, but ask me in two weeks.” Michael called after him, gasping as she hit him on the arm. “And my fiancée is already abusing me. How wonderful.”

“I barely touched you. You're such a drama queen.” She said with a scoff, sitting on the floor in front of her closet, working on the lowest rack. He rolled his eyes, making his way over, beginning to ease himself down. Isabel reached up to stop him, her expression softening. “Your leg.”

“It's fine, really. Allow me to help you.” He said quietly, looking sheepish, waving his hand dismissively. 

“I'll get the stuff out, you can fold it in your fancy way.” She said, holding her hand out to shake. His tongue darted out and coated his lips before he took her hand, giving it a firm shake. “Is it a deal?”

“I do love making deals with you.” He said, smiling as he opened another box, taking all the items she handed him and neatly folding them. She decided not to tease him for his precision any more, instead settling on a coy smile. She didn't own much, so it was relatively easy to pack everything up. They made quite the team, she thought, and she was happy he had wanted to help her. “Is there any furniture you're particularly attached to?”

“My desk. It was in my mother's office.” She said softly, and he nodded immediately. 

“Then you shall have it.” He gestured towards it and the men cleared it off, boxing everything up before carrying the desk off. “Anything else?”

“No. The rest is just furniture.” She said with a small shrug, and he held his hand out to her, helping her up off the floor.

“There's adequate space for the desk in your room.” 

“My room?” She asked hesitantly, tilting her head as she regarded him. He looked as if he was trying not to express any emotions, and he nodded.

“Yes. I... I had prepared a separate room for you as I didn't wish to impose on you. I don't expect that aspect of marriage from you.” He said, turning away from her to fiddle around with a perfectly acceptable box, his shoulders straight. Though his tone was even, she could tell he felt awkward.

She should have been relieved that he wasn't expecting it, but she found she wouldn't exactly object to  
She felt as awkward as he, and she wasn't exactly sure how to breach the topic. She suddenly felt small and silly beside him, like a clueless teenaged girl talking to her crush. She should have approached it like an adult, but she was just so uncomfortable, so unsure. So she stared at him until he turned around with his usual tight smile, his eyes nervous.

“That's not necessary.” She said softly, her cheeks scarlet as she looked up at him, fiddling with the hem of her blouse.

“No?”

“Doing that isn't something I object to.” She said softly, watching a small smile stretch across his face, his eyes reflecting his joy at the news. “I want to.”

“If you truly do, when we are married, you can move into my room with me.” He said quietly, running his hands up and down her arms slowly, his touch soft. He gave her a soft kiss on the forehead, and she could feel his smile against her skin.

“Okay.” She said shyly, looking down at her feet, resting hands on his chest, her palms flat.

“You set the pace, Belle. Not me. You.” He said, and she was again astounded from the way the nickname sounded when he spoke it, and she wouldn't object to it even if she loathed it. His tone was worth any disdain she could have felt towards the name. Even still, she rather liked it.

“Have you known someone named Belle before?” She asked in confusion, watching confusion flit across his face.

“Not that I recall.”

“You say it differently. Like it means the world to you. You don't say Isabel like that.” She said with an eyebrow arched, her fingers splaying across his chest.

“Perhaps Belle is special to me because it's ours. It's something only I call you.” He said, offering a slight shrug, looking at her as if he thought she was reading too far into a name. Perhaps she was.

“I guess that makes sense.” She said, mirroring his shrug and stepping away, working on the remains of her things. He made his way over to her, standing behind her, his head tilted. They worked in silence for the rest of the the ordeal, sharing fleeting touches and small smiles. Leroy and Dove took all the boxes down and into the moving truck Michael had procured. Her father sat stoically in the living room, never once moving from his place in the armchair. When her and Michael came by hand and hand, he slowly stood, looking at their entwined hands.

“I suppose you'll be leaving now?” Moe asked quietly, shoving his hands in his pockets, his eyes focused on the floor.

“Yes. I'm all packed up.” She said, squeezing Michael's hand gently, watching her father give a curt nod.

“You're welcome home whenever you need to. I'm sure you will in a couple of months.” He said, and she sighed then, looking at him in annoyance. She then vowed that even if she did need to go anywhere besides Michael's, she wouldn't go to her father. With his behavior as of late, she would rather sleep on a park bench than prove him right. 

She wasn't frightened about things not working out. She was ready for rocky. She could handle herself in the upcoming fights and mutual exasperation. Michael had extensive issues, issues she was all too happy to help work through. Once he let her in and worked through his insecurities and paranoia, she was positive they would work well. It was just a matter of breaking down those sky high walls surrounding his heart.

Maybe, just maybe, Michael Gold was a battle worth fighting. 

Her father's betrayal and utter lack of care towards her feelings was painful but bearable. The knowledge that know she had Michael to lean on, if only for short amounts of time, was comforting and refreshing. She had been more or less on her own for a long time now. Her father had always been there, but he hadn't always stood by her. Michael seemed more than willing to stand by her and support her. She thought of herself as a strong and independent woman, but being in Michael's company meant in the moments when she too felt weak, she wouldn't have to be alone.

“I won't.” She said firmly, and both men looked at her with varying degrees of doubt. She was hurt to see Michael looked more doubtful than her father. It was unsurprising, given he had already mapped out the day he expected she'd ask for divorce. Though both lacked faith in her, though Michael's was less bothersome given he had known her for far less time.

“Well, if you do. I'm here.”

“Does that mean I won't see you at the wedding?” She asked softly, watching her father stand up a bit straighter, shrugging his shoulders.

“I might come. But if I do, it's not support. It's because I want to see my daughter on her wedding day, even if it's a sham.” He said stiffly, and her chest swelled with anger, her hand momentarily gripping Michael's hard enough to elicit a slight wince. She turned, pulling Michael along with her, not sparing a glance back. He followed her without question, even going so far as to limp a bit faster to aid in her speedy getaway. He opened her door for her, giving her hand one last squeeze before closing her door. He got in the driver's side, wasting no time and pulling out and driving off.

“Are you alright, love?” He asked so softly she barely heard, his eyes flicking over to take her in. In simply asking how she was doing, he had again made her feel very special. Everyone else was dearie, and yet he called her love. She was beginning to realize how much these little things meant to her.

“I am. I'm too old to need his approval in everything I do.” She decided, watching a small, proud smile appear on his face. 

“I'm sure he'll grudgingly accept it in time. Once you're without a child for a long while you grow desperate.” He said, his face shifting into one full of pain as he said it. She reached over and laid a hand on his leg, her fingers gently splayed across the fabric.

“I can't even imagine.” She said sincerely, watching an uneasy smile spread across his face.

“I hope you never have to know truly.” He said quietly, glancing over at her again, taking a deep breath. “Do you... Have interest in having children?”

“I do. Not now, but someday. When it's right.” She said slowly, phrasing the sentence carefully. She was entirely uncertain of how he felt about the idea of having more children, and she didn't even know if he'd want that with her. It was a touchy subject, and she didn't want more awkward silence like when the topic of sex was brought up. “What about you?”

“Did you... Did you mean with me?” He asked slowly, making her cheeks heat up brightly. He looked unsure and uncomfortable, but there was a hope in his eyes. If she was to be truthful, the answer would be yes. She couldn't see herself finding anyone else she liked even half as much, and he seemed as though he was a good father, like he had been a good father. Still, she was quiet a moment, muddling her thoughts over, images of a future family coming to mind. “I'm sorry. I shouldn't have assumed.” He said quietly, his voice strained and his hands rigid on the wheel.

“No! No, I... Yes, with you. Someday. Once we... Sort everything out and get to know each other better. I can't see why I wouldn't want that with you. Not now, but in the future.” She said shyly, watching his face closely, the tension thick and stifling. He smiled slightly. “I mean, if you even want that.”

“Well, of course I would, but we're not even married. Slow down, dearie.” He teased, and she only blushed more, looking down at her knees.

“Don't dearie me.” She said softly, and he chuckled, reaching over to take her hand.

“My most sincere apologies, my darling.” He said, lifting her hand to his lips and pressing a soft kiss to the back, his breath hitting her skin and sending a shiver up her spine. She watched him with bated breath, her mouth hanging open slightly. To think such a simple and courtly gesture could be made into something so erotic. He smirked as if he knew her thoughts, pulling in front of a large, pink house.

“I still can't believe you live in a pink house.” She murmured, chasing off her breathlessness with the teasing remark, and he scoffed.

“It isn't pink.”

“Then what color is it?”

“It's salmon.” He muttered, turning the car off and stepping out. He made his way over to her side of the vehicle, pulling her door open and offering her a hand. He pulled her out and closed the door, and she looked up at him with a smirk.

“It's a shade of pink.” She said, gripping his jacket and looking up at him, watching his face remain serious yet defiant.

“It's a shade of orange.” He said, and she rolled her eyes, leaning up to give him a soft kiss, stroking his hair gently. “But I'll make it whatever color you'd like for more kisses like that.” 

“I like the color.”

“All that only to admit you like it. You're a very strange girl.” He said, leading her away and to the steps, looking over his shoulders to see Dove pulling the small moving van in. He turned away and unlocked the house, pushing the beautiful stained glass door open. He ushered her in with a hand on the small of her back, and she looked around, taking in everything. His home was elegant, the furnishings pristine yet holding a certain old world charm. He led her to the stairs, shrugging off her arm as she tried to help him up the stairs. She rolled her eyes and let him struggle, the sound of his cane loud on the creaky boards. The house was bigger than it seemed, and it hadn't seemed small by any means. He pushed open one of the numerous doors, revealing a room decorated in pale blues and creams, an elegant four poster bed in the center. There was a bay window with a nook, a soft covered bench in the well lit area perfect for reading. The closet was open and far larger than anything she was used to, and she knew she wouldn't come close to filling it. The room was beautiful, and she ran her hand along the most expensive feeling comforter she had ever seen, turning to face him.

“You did this for me?” She asked softly, and he nodded, his hands folded on his cane, his expression unsure.

“If you don't like it, I can have it redone immediately.” He said, and she rushed to him, wrapping her arms around him tightly, sending him back slightly. His cane clattered as it hit the floor, his hands tentatively coming to grip her. 

“I love it. It's beautiful. Far too beautiful considering I won't spend long in here.” She said, pulling back to look at him, again seeing the look of awe on his face. “What was this room before?”

“It was simply packed with various trinkets and artifacts. Nothing that didn't fit in the attic.” He said, shrugging slightly, his head tilting slightly as he looked down at her.

“Thank you. Is this the surprise you were telling me about?” She asked, surprised as he chuckled.

“No. I'll show you that once we're married.” He said, and she pouted, about to try and charm him into giving in sooner.

“Knock knock!” A gruff voice called out, and Leroy came in with a large box, making Michael back away from her, a stern look coming across his face. Dove appeared, towering over the much shorter man, his face expressionless as usual.

“Bring all the boxes and the desk in as quickly as you can. Then, leave.” He said sternly, making them both nod, setting boxes down and turning around. It didn't take long for her and Michael to unpack all her things, and it was much more tolerable due to his sharp wit and wry humor. They had bickered back and forth, though it never rose beyond playful banter.

Hours later they were settled on his couch, empty Chinese takeout boxes scattered across his coffee table. He was only in his dress shirt and tie, the much more relaxed look showing off his wiry frame. It was domestic, and for a moment, she forget they weren't already married. He was nursing a glass of scotch, and he shifted his leg a bit, wincing so slightly she barely saw it.

“Are you alright?” She asked, resting a hand on his forearm.

“Of course.”

“Is your leg hurting badly?” She asked in concern, surprised to see him glare at her, a slight snarl on his lips.

“I'm fine.” He snapped, facing forward and staring at the blank television screen, his body tense.

“It's okay if it's not. You don't have to be embarrassed.” She said gently, rubbing his arm. She was hurt when he pulled away from her, leaning forward and topping off his scotch.

“I said I'm fine!” He said, standing up and picking his glass up, not looking at her. “You should go to bed. It's getting late. I... Have work to do.” He said briskly, picking his cane up and making his way out of the room.

“No goodnight kiss?” She asked, her tone as snappish as his, and he froze in the doorway, turning to face her. His teeth were ground together, his hand gripping the cane roughly. He looked so angry, and yet, he seemed more broken than anything. He sipped his drink, coming back over to her. She was ready to forgive him and stood to accept her kiss. He leaned down, moving past her to pick up the bottle of scotch, tucking it under his arm. It hurt her more than it should, and she looked at him, reaching a hand out to him.

“Stop pretending you actually want that.” He said harshly, backing away and disappearing. She sighed to herself, clearing away the mess, putting the leftovers in his almost empty fridge. She always had a cup of tea before bed, but she didn't know where anything was, and she wasn't about to ask him given he was suddenly grumpy and withdrawn. She made her way up to her room, closing the door behind her and dressing for bed. The room was foreign in the dark and she laid in bed, staring at the canopy of the bed.

It hurt her that he behaved so rudely whenever she expressed any concern for him. By nature, she was a nurturer. She had many memories of nursing small and injured wild animals back to help, as well as of taking care of her father when he had broken a leg. Michael didn't like to be vulnerable, the mere mention of his leg enough to make him leave her alone for the night.

His last words echoed in her head, the tone she had detected leaving her heart stinging. She thought it to he perfectly clear that she did indeed want affection from him, given she had initiated it several times. He was a stubborn man and if he thought something, he clearly wasn't easy to break of it.

She shifted in the bed, trying to get comfortable despite the softness of the mattress and the whisper of satin against her skin. Her brain was racing with thoughts, and she knew she wouldn't sleep easy. Yet again, it was Michael's fault. She wasn't sure how long she laid awake for, but she eventually heard the creaking of floorboards and the thump of a cane. The footsteps drew closer, eventually stopping right outside her door. Michael tapped what sounded like the handle of his cane against the door.

She was torn. She wanted to let him in, to accept what she hoped was an apology. If she was to be honest with herself, she was scared to. She didn't want to let him off so easy. He tapped his cane again, more gently, and she knew it was a test to see if she was even awake. She pictured him standing there with puppy dog eyes and a deep frown, guilt filling him for again upsetting her. She was scared to let him in because she was scared of what would come of it.

She finally stood up, making her way over to the door. She hesitated, hearing the footsteps retreating, the cane loud, a reminder of what had caused this issue in the first place. She heard a door open and close, and poked her head out, trying to see which room he had disappeared into. She was filled with regret for not letting him in sooner. Quite frankly, if he wouldn't let her in, why should she let him in? The lingering question kept her up until her eyes physically couldn't stay open and she fell into fitful sleep.


	14. Nightmare

Isabel awoke just as the first rays of light were streaming in the bay window, blinking as she covered her eyes with her palm. She was momentarily confused about her location before memories of the night before came surging back in. Included in the recognition was memories of their issues and her lingering exasperation with Michael. She swung her feet over the edge of the bed, quietly making her way to the door. She pressed her ear to it, remaining taciturn as she tried to pick up on any sounds that would indicate his location. When she heard nothing she pulled the door open, peeking out and looking both ways.

She quietly made her way to the bathroom he had pointed out the night before, slipping inside. She felt silly sneaking around as if she was hiding, but she partially was. The only problem was Michael was a lot harder to avoid now that they lived under the same roof. She started the water up the water and disrobed, stepping into the scalding water and yelping, turning it down to a more manageable temperature. All her toiletries had been moved in the night more, so it was the same as a shower at home despite Michael's bathroom being far nicer than her own. 

She went through her routine swiftly, then took the time to simply stand, allowing the water to rain down on her. She knew she would very likely see Michael once she made her way downstairs, and she was preparing a lengthy speech to give him. She was going to more or less scold him for his behavior, and she wanted to make sure she knew what to say before she said it. He needed the courage to let her in, and she was going to tell him just that.

She stepped out of the shower and wrapped a large, fluffy towel around herself. She toweled herself off, realizing with a start that she had forgotten to bring an outfit with her. She murmured a curse and wrapped the towel securely around herself, holding it up with one hand. She made her way to the door and slowly pulled it open. She took a step out, colliding with a hard body, stumbling back. A strong arm wrapped around her waist to keep her upright, Michael's startled face coming into view. Once he steadied her he backed away, his eyes widening as he took in the sight of her in just a towel. She watched his pink tongue slip out to rest between his lips, his eyes wide and dark.

“Good morning my darling.” He said after a moment of tense and thick silence, his eyes slowly leaving her body to focus on her face. 

“Hi.” She murmured, all the words she had planned to say fading from her due to embarrassment.

“You look rather lovely today.” He said playfully and she couldn't help but smile, laughing slightly. 

“Eyes up.” She said, watching a small smirk appear on his lips, a certain flirty edge added to it.

“My most sincere apologies. I'm simply a man who can't resist such a beautiful sight.” He said, his tone sincere and silky. His hand came up to her wet hair, toying with one of the strands, wrapping it around his fingertip. She was gradually forgetting her irritation due to his devilishly charming ways, so she quickly backed up, holding the towel tightly around her body.

“I need to get ready.” She said quickly, walking past him and closing herself off in her room. His words had given her the necessary confidence, so she found herself in a well fitted red dress, the skirt the of it coming down to mid thigh. It was the nicest thing she owned outside of a formal gown leftover from the prom she had hated, and it hugged her curves deliciously. She always felt self-conscious in it, but she hoped Michael liked it on her. Even if she was still angry, that didn’t mean she couldn’t try to impress him.

While she dried her hair, her thoughts drifted to Michael and his refusal of her concern for him. She began to worry their troubled night was actually her fault, doubt setting in. Had it been offensive to inquire about his wellness? Perhaps he had taken it as a discourteous reminder of his disability. She wondered if the apology she was waiting for was really meant to come from her.

She made her way downstairs to find him glowering at the morning paper, his legs crossed neatly as he sipped his coffee. She took a moment to lean on the archway, staring over at him silently. She was amazed by how handsome he looked in just his waistcoat and purple tie, his black dress shirt adding to the allure. She realized with amusement he wore golden sleeve garters, and she couldn't help but roll her eyes.

“I can feel you staring at me, you know. Your eyes are burning me.” He said without looking up at her, bringing his navy blue mug to his lips and taking a sip. She frowned as she stepped inside the kitchen, smiling sheepishly as she sat down at the table with him. “I believe apologies are in order.”

“For what?” She asked, sitting up a bit straighter, looking at him. He still hadn't raised his eyes from the paper, and his nonchalance was infuriating. He was infuriating.

“For behaving so crudely this morning. You deserve better than that.” He said, and her heart sank, a faint frown appearing on her face. She sighed quietly, shaking her head slightly.

“Anything else?” She asked, and then he looked at her, gasping loudly, his eyes running along her. He tilted his head slightly to see the length of her dress, and she blushed the color of the dress.

“I apologize for not noticing that dress the instant you entered the room. You look positively stunning.” He said, his eyes slightly wide, a lump bobbing in his throat as he swallowed hard.

“That's not what I mean, but thank you. I'm glad you like it.” She said softly, looking at him coyly.

“You are referring to last night.” He said slowly, swirling his coffee around his mug, his head hanging a moment. His hair flopped into his face slightly, the sun streaming in the French doors making it shine. She had the urge to run her fingers through it.

“I am.”

“Perhaps I was a bit rash in reacting the way I did. You must understand, I'm not very used to people expressing concern over me. It reminds me of my weakness. Of what defines me.” He said, his tone solemn and almost embarrassed, his eyes averted. 

“It doesn't define you. It's just part of you. When I look at you, I don't see a bad leg. I see Michael Gold, a man who is so much and just so happens to have a bad leg too. It's nothing to be embarrassed over, and accepting my concern is okay.” She said, laying her hand over his own and gently stroking.

“I suppose I feel like less of a man for displaying a weakness like that.” He said, and she was so happy he said it, because he was opening up, he was talking, and it was wonderful. They were making progress and she was so proud of him for sharing this with her, for sharing his feelings.

“Real men can admit they have a weakness. Everyone has weaknesses. It makes us human, and it's completely okay.” She said, entwining her fingers with his and holding his hand gently, running her thumb along his finger.

“I think I'm supposed to he the wise one, but it seems you are.” He said with an airy chuckle, bringing her hand up to his lips and pressing a soft kiss to her skin.

“If I'm to be your wife, you have to accept help sometimes. If it's just between us, what's the real harm in it?” She asked, smiling gently.

“You're right. You have this annoying habit of always being right.”

“I wasn't right about the deal.” She said quietly, and he looked at her with interest.

“And what were you wrong about in regards to that?”

“I was wrong to completely rule out anything intimate.” She said, and he chuckled, taking a small sip of coffee.

“Your friend Miss Lucas seemed to think I wanted your baby, if I recall correctly.” He said with a smirk, standing from his chair and tugging her up. He pulled his suit coat on, and then his overcoat, leading her to the door and handing her her peacoat. “Come, talk in the car. We can get breakfast before work.” He said, and they walked hand and hand out of the house. Once in the car he pulled one a light blue key out of his pocket, and then a plain one, handing them to her. “For the car, and for the house.”

“I don't even have a license.” She said as she took them, and he shrugged, starting the engine.

“Well, you may need a key regardless. I can teach you to drive if you like.” He said, and she pulled her own ring of keys out of her purse, feeling a strange heaviness as she added the keys to his house and his car. She wasn't sure if she would ever consider anything of his as her own. It would always be his house with his things inside it.

“Thank you. That would be nice.” She said, sinking back into the seat and buckling herself in. 

“Why did you rule out anything intimate? You underestimate your appeal.” He said, pulling away from the curb and driving, his eyes focused on the road.

“I just didn't think you would. Ruby thought you'd want a sex slave, too.” She whispered, and he sputtered, laughing, glancing over at her.

“I'm only slightly more decent than that. I enjoy a good conversation with you far too much to settle for something so... Lacking. And I respect you far too much to ask for something so crass.” He said, pulling up to the curb in front of Granny's, turning his car off.

“Respect is good. Keep that up.” She said, moving to get out of the car, halting as his hand shot out to grab her wrist. She turned to face her, expecting him to chide her for moving so quickly, and then he pressed his lips to her own. She was briefly surprised though she responded quickly, her arms wrapping around his neck, her body leaning over the console in a fruitless attempt to get closer to him. His hands rested on her arms, his fingertips ghosting along her, sending goosebumps along the pale flesh. His breath tasted like coffee and mint, the bitter taste unpleasant. She was absolutely apathetic to it due to the way his lips felt against her's.

“Yeah, Izzy! You go girl!” Said a loud voice from outside the car, causing them both to detach and stiffen. Isabel looked up, unsurprised to see Ruby standing there with a hand on her hip and a smirk on her lips.

“I dare say Miss Lucas is a fan of ours.” Michael said with a scoff, looking more frustrated than amused.

“Don't be angry, she's just playing.” She said, running a gentle hand along his stubbly cheek, her finger tracing his jaw.

“Yes, well, I would like to kiss my fiancé without interference.” He said stiffly, and she pressed a soft kiss to his lips, still stroking his cheek. He was like a constantly raging storm, a great typhoon of emotions. At times he was peaceful and even mundane, and others he crackled with power and force.

“We live together now. You can do that later, as long as you aren't rude again.” She said, running a finger along his chest, watching as he gave a quick bob of his head.

“I will be so polite tonight.”

“Not too polite. Be yourself, but more open.” She said, backing away and getting out of the car, pleased to leave him stunned and silent. After a moment he made his way out of the car, walking over to her. She looped her arm through his and he escorted her into the diner. Ruby threw them a wink, gesturing to the table in the corner that already had a cup of steaming black coffee and a glass of orange juice. A few people turned to observe them, but there was far less contempt than usual. It seemed they were growing used to the villainous pawnbroker and the sweet, bookish young girl being together and engaged.

“How attentive of her.” Michael sneered and she tightened her hand on his arm, shooting him a slight glare.

“Michael.” She said sternly, watching as he closed his mouth and looked down, quietly walking her over to the table. He pulled out her chair for her and slid it in, sitting across from her. “She's my best friend, and really, one of my only, so I would appreciate you being kinder.”

“Of course, dearest. Your wish is my command.” He said, bowing his head slightly, picking up the coffee.

“You drink a lot of it.” She said, watching as he looked defensive, his body going stiff.

“I don't have a problem, if that's what you're saying.” He said, frowning deeply.

“I'm not saying that. Just that you like coffee.” She murmured, lowering her gaze to the laminated menu.

“I'm sorry. I thought you were referring to something else.” He said, reaching out and laying his hand over her own. She lifted her eyes, gazing at him curiously.

“What did you think I was talking about?”

“It doesn't matter.” He said, shaking his head and smiling at her. She was about to press further, but Ruby came to his rescue, standing with her small notebook in hand.

“And what can I get for you two lovebirds?” She asked cheekily, popping her hip out, looking between them with a smile. 

“I'll have bacon and eggs, please.” Michael said curtly, sliding his menu over to her. He didn't spare her a glance, keeping his eyes in his fiancée.

“Waffles, please.” She said, and Ruby jotted it down, taking their menus and smiling, walking off. Michael shifted in his seat a bit, and her legs ended up against his, the warmth of his body against her cold legs. 

“What time do you usually get out of work?” He asked, the question breaking a slightly awkward silence.

“5 o'clock. Why?”

“So I'm there to pick you up on time, of course.”

“You don't have to pick me up. Your house isn't that far from work.” She said with a small shrug, watching him wince slightly, looking down at the table a moment. She knew she had offended him, she just wasn't sure what the issue was. Vaguely she wondered if he was upset that she didn't think of his house as her own, but she never would. If she ever did, it would be years from now.

“Yes, well, I want to. It's on my way, as is.” He said, taking a long sip of his coffee after, looking at her as he did. She didn't protest, actually a bit grateful as walking home in her heels was never pleasant. So she said nothing, her silent acceptance enough for him, because he said nothing. Their meals arrived and they ate, talking here and there, the atmosphere finally comfortable. They did connect well, that much she knew, and it was nice to finally lose the slightly awkward layer that had been covering them. After breakfast they went back to the car and he drove her to work. He gave her a sweet kiss goodbye, and promised to see her later before driving off to his shop.

There were, as usual, very few appointments booked, so it gave her time to reflect. So far living with Michael had been unpleasant, but not as bad as it could have been. She understood he was a creature of habit, and his habits were to keep people at a distance. He had made her feel everything from warm and safe to uncomfortable and awkward, all in a matter of hours. He was like a roller coaster, the tallest and fastest one in the world. Terrifying and unpredictable, but still enjoyable, a rush you would seek out sooner than you'd avoid.

It was slightly ridiculous that she left her father's house to avoid his hostility and judgement only to face Michael's hostility and closed off ways. Moving in with him was of course inevitable, but she would constantly be plagued with the worry that even another week would have made a world of difference. She had hopes that things would get better, but she also hoped she wouldn't crumble under the stress of it all first. Michael could make her feel so happy, only to crush it with his stubborn ways.

She felt fur brush up against her leg and looked down, Dazzle chirping up at her. She ran her hand across the feline's back, watching the slight twitch. The sound of purring filled her ears, and she scratched at the base of her tail, watching the cat arch. The cat climbed up into her lap and curled up, spending the remainder of the day fast asleep in her lap. The animal brought her a feeling of content, and she was ready to face Michael much more calmly. She was ready to work at bringing those walls down.

When she walked out of the building he was waiting, sitting in his car, his eyes focused on something in his lap. She moved swiftly and quietly, rapping gently on his door, making him jump and look up. A glare appeared on his face, and she ran to her side, climbing in and looking at him.

“That wasn't funny. I could have caned you down.” He said, and she just leaned over, kissing him softly on the cheek, her hand on his shoulder.

“I'm sorry I scared you.”

“You didn't scare me. You startled me. There is a difference.” He murmured, starting the engine back up, then stopping. He picked up what was in his lap, handing it to her. She realized it was another book, old and worn, the cover faded. “And here I am with a gift for you.”

“I've never read this before. Thank you so much.” She said softly, a genuine smile appearing on her face, and she kissed him again. This time her lips met his and she leaned closer, cupping his face with her dainty hands. She was so grateful she forgot everything else, and the rest of the evening was as close to perfect as it could get. He was kind and agreeable, and he didn't try to push her away. She couldn't ask for more.

Given the night was so good, sleeping should have been just as good. There was no explanation as to why she woke up screaming, sobbing from the same nightmare that she often had. It was of being locked up, tortured for loving a mysterious man, one without a name or face. Her heart pounded as she sat up in bed, tears streaming down her face. Her door was flung open and Michael came rushing in, making his way to the bed and sitting on the edge, gripping her shoulders gently.

“What's wrong love? Are you alright?” He asked quickly, running his hands up and down her bare arms, the moonlight showing his concerned face. She didn't say anything, just collapsed into his chest and gripped his silk pajamas. He held her in his arms, cooing softly in her ear and pressing feather soft kisses to her hair.

He soothed the fear she felt and made her feel safer than she could imagine. The strong arms around her were gentle yet secure, strong and yet soft hands stroking her flushed skin. His zesty and pleasant scent lulled her into a calmer state, and she managed to stop her trembling, staying in his arms. Usually, she would spend an hour sobbing and shaking, fearful of being taken and imprisoned, a fear that didn't make sense, an irrational fear. Michael had managed to make the panic vanish in minutes.

In that moment, she very nearly loved him, and it was as scary as the nightmare and as secure as his arms.

“Could I s-sleep with you?” She asked finally, pulling back to look up at him with her tear stained face. She didn't want to be alone, she wanted to be safe and protected, and he was the only one who had ever made her feel both.

“Yes, of course. Come, my darling.” He said, standing up and taking her with him. She realized he had forgotten his cane and knew his leg was probably screaming, and she was touched by his urgency to reach her. He led her to his room and despite her upset, she was still curious, peering up from his chest to look around. He guided her to his bed and she climbed in first, and he quickly joined her, wrapping his arm back around her, wincing.

“Your leg. I'm sorry.” She said softly, again tearing up from her emotional state. He shushed her before she could say another word, tightening his arms around her.

“It's just a leg. You're far more important.” He said, laying back, and she followed suit, remaining tucked in his arms. His other hand rested lightly on her waist, stroking her hip through her night gown. She realized she had worn a slightly revealing gown, and yet he didn't look her over, and she was grateful. Considering his eyes had burned her when he saw her dress, she was happy her appearance wasn't on his mind even in her state. “What happened?” He asked so softly she barely heard him, his voice velvety and rich by her ear.

“I had a nightmare. It's always the same one.” She said, embarrassed by how thick her voice sounded. He didn't quip or mock, instead just kissing her on the forehead, restoring her faith that she could be honest with him. “It's always about me being chained up and locked away. And I'm tortured, tortured because I love someone. It's never said who it is that I love, just that he thinks I'm dead and will never look for me. I don't know why I'm even so afraid of it.”

“You're afraid because it sounds rather terrifying. Being locked up like that is scary, and anyone would wake up from torture and be scared. Don't be ashamed for your fear.” He said, pulling her in tighter, resting his chin atop her head. “Don't worry, I'm here to keep you safe. No one will ever take you away.” He whispered, more to himself than to her, his hand fanning out along her hip. 

“Will you really?” She asked softly, and she didn't have it in her to care that she sounded like a child, or that it was silly to fear being taken.

“Of course. A man has to keep his woman safe, or he's not a man.” He said, shifting his head so his face was against her hair, his reply muffled. “I may have a physical disadvantage, but make no mistake, I'll protect you.”

“This isn't bad, like I thought. You're a good man, Michael. I really appreciate everything you do for me.” She said softly, nuzzling her head against his chest more, her hand lightly gripping his shirt.

“I will always try to be a good man for you. I may not succeed, but I will try.” He said, and she was so tired, so utterly exhausted that her head sank into his chest more. Her arms slid down his body, still holding him, and her eyes grew heavier.

“Try. We both have to try.” She murmured, and she heard him chuckle.

“For now just try to sleep.” He said, kissing her on the temple, his lips lingering against her skin. She snuggled into his warmth and yawned. She had never been so close to someone, and she was certain this was her new favorite way to sleep. Her last thought was of how marriage wouldn't be so bad, if only she could be in Michael's arms every night.


	15. Lending a Hand

Since the nightmare that drove her to his bed, things had been surprisingly stable. They had both agreed to wait a bit longer for the wedding, and fell into a comfortable routine together. In the morning she either made breakfast, or they went to Granny's. She quickly learned that Michael was quite possibly a hoarder, as his spare rooms were jam packed with various items. When she took a peek in the attic, she was immediately overwhelmed with the urge to clean and organize, as it was clear Michael didn't. For as neat and put together the man himself was, his house was a disgrace in some places. The basement she didn't dare go into, as it was eerie and more his space.

They had been getting along much better, and Michael was clearly trying very hard to be smarter and more considerate with his words. The only issue they had had was when he insisted on bringing home a few armfuls of dusty artifacts from the shop. He had left then along the dining room table, and she had scolded him for it. He was surprisingly receptive, and moved all the things to his office, and that was the end of it.

She had unofficially moved into his room, and small signs began to show for it. A bright pink hairbrush on the counter in the master bathroom. Her small collection of makeup in the corner of the vanity. Two toothbrushes, one black and one purple, side by side in the holder. Fruity and flowery scented shampoo in his shower, as well as her rose scented soap.

Things weren't perfect, however. As she learned more about him, she learned more about his habits. Hidden from all of the town was a rather nasty one, one she was frightened of. Michael had a bit of a drinking problem. He had said it truly wasn't a problem, but Isabel was fairly certain that was what people said when it was in fact a problem. There hadn't been a single night where he hadn't had several drinks, and he would snap at her if she tried to ask him to stop. It was a touchy area, and one she knew to tread carefully on.

She had originally been frightened about his drinking. She had memories of her father drinking and becoming belligerent and cruel, and she feared Michael would shift into that behavior. So far, he had been calm and relaxed, affectionate and put together. The only time he was angry was if she tried to take it. She had realized it was silly to fear a man who cared so fiercely, so she grew bolder with it. It was his choice to drink, but the frequency and the amount couldn't be healthy. When she had asked him to go one evening without it, he had said he couldn't do it, and that was how she knew it was a problem.

She was willing to be patient. As long as he wasn't turning into a bellicose and pushy man, she would give him time. Once they grew closer, once he was closer to loving her, he would be more receptive to her help. She was concerned for his health, and she knew he would listen to that. For the time being she watched him carefully, keeping a wary eye on him as he poured himself scotch after scotch, never seeming as though he was drunk.

She had figured out why he drank on her own, as it was fairly obvious. He drank to ease the lingering pain of losing his son. It was surprising given that he lost him to a drunk driver, but Michael wasn't always logical. He had his moments of weakness, and they were accompanied by a glass of scotch on the rocks. 

When she kissed him she could taste the lingering alcohol on his breath, and when he leaned his head on her forehead and breathed out sweet words, the scent was overpowering. She didn't mind the taste per se, though it was too powerful to be pleasant. She had found they were kissing quite a lot these days, nights were spent on his couch in a tangle of arms and lips that just wouldn't part. She found herself feeling curious about just pushing forward, if only slightly. The suggestion had come from Ruby when she had heard they hadn't slept together beyond cuddling. She had blushed at the thought, but really, it was something she wanted to try. She knew Michael was too respectful to ever suggest anything, but surely he had desires.

They found themselves on the couch after making dinner together, his eyes focused on an antique program, and her's on a book. His arm was draped loosely around her shoulders, and her legs were curled up underneath her. She had been staring at the same page for about ten minutes, trying to figure out how she was to approach this. She felt shy and unsure, but she was equally curious. Ruby's advice had relied on her being confident and simply getting to it, but she felt too silly in this moment.

“Are you quite alright?” He asked into her ear, making a chill creep down her spine, her breath catching. His accent did wicked things to her when he whispered. “You haven't turned the page in some time.”

“I'm fine. I'm just thinking.” She marked her place in the book and closed it, setting it on the coffee table. She leaned on his chest, looking up at him.

“What of?”

“I can't tell you.” She murmured, and it only piqued his interest, his brows arching.

“Why not?” He asked curiously, running his hand along her arm slowly, his other hand resting on her hip.

“It's embarrassing.” 

“I won't laugh.” He promised, laying a hand over his heart, looking at her sincerely.

“I don't know how to say it, so I think I'm just going to do it. Unless you stop me.” She said, watching confusion flit across his face. She leaned up and kissed it away, her hands sliding down to rest on his chest. He kissed her back instantly, his hands coming up to rest on her hips. She pressed forward, her chest against his and her arms wrapping around his neck. He kissed along her jaw and ran his tongue along her neck, pressing lingering kisses to the skin. She boldly slid her hand down his body, tentatively cupping his manhood through his pants. He let out a strangled cry of surprise, pulling back to look at her.

“Is this what you-”

“Yes.”

“I will never stop you.” He ran his hand through her hair, giving her a softer kiss. She slowly rubbed him through his fabric of his pants, feeling him gradually harden under her touch. She peeked down, seeing the bulge forming, and then looked back at his face. He looked relaxed, his face free from any of the usual stress or anger he carried with him. She kissed him deeply, her hands working on unbuttoning his pants and unzipping his fly. She slid her tongue inside his mouth, the soft groan he gave music to her ears. She jumped slightly as he slid his hands up to cup her breasts through her blouse, but she continued kissing him, quickly growing used to it. She kissed along his jaw, gently nipping the skin, eliciting a quiet gasp. 

She took a deep breath and eased his erection out of his boxers, wrapping her hand around the warm shaft. He hissed out softly, his head dropping back to the sofa. She looked down curiously, slowly stroking along the thick flesh, her eyes on him. She exposed the pink tip, running her thumb over the dot of moisture, pressing down gently, curiously. He gasped out, his hips lifting up, his eyes snapping open. She moved her hand along him a bit faster, her grip increasing, though she was still careful not to harm the sensitive area. She glanced up at his face, noticing he looked self-conscious, and she realized perhaps she had scrutinized too heavily. She leaned in and gave him a small kiss, pulling back with a slight smile, making sure he saw.

“And do I meet the Isabel French standard of approval?” He asked shyly, and she nodded immediately, unsure of how to compliment a man in this way.

“You're perfect, Michael.” She said, and judging by the way his face lit up, her truth had made him happy. He wrapped his arm around her, pulling her in closer as she pumped him, their lips meeting. The kiss was passionate and hungry, yet also clumsy on her part, as she was focusing on her hand motions. He was proficient enough at kissing for both of them, so she allowed him to completely control it. “How, uh, how does it feel?” She asked shyly, changing the pressure of her grip slightly.

“Wonderful. So wonderful.” He whispered, leaning his forehead on her own, a faint smile on his face. “It's been an embarrassingly long time since I've been touched.” He admitted, smiling sheepishly and gasping as she curiously pressed the tip again, rubbing her finger along the skin. His mouth hung open, his eyes hooded with pleasure, and she continued the touch, loving the way his face was twisted. 

Her touch was still unsure, but she was growing to like his noises and the feel of his skin under her hand. She brought her other hand to his tesicles, cupping and watching his face, testing the reaction. He groaned out loudly and she smiled, gently fondling. Ruby had been context when she had passed on the information that men quite liked that. “I... I'm not gonna last much longer.” He said, his skin flushed, his hand reaching clumsily for a tissue to hand to her. His accent was the thickest she'd ever heard it, and his eyes were dark and hooded, his hand gripping her thigh. She wasn't sure of what to expect for his climax, so she kept her pace up. He let out a groan of her name as he orgasmed, and her eyes widened, some of the warm fluid landing on her hand. She slowly released him, looking down at her hand. She folded the tissue up and wiped her hand clean, looking up at him shyly.

“How was it?” She inquired as he panted slightly, leaning back against the couch, his eyes closed. He just pulled her into his chest, running his hand along her arm, smiling slightly.

“Incredible. Thank you for doing that.” He breathed out, kissing her on the forehead. He fixed his pants and slowly zipped them, and then his hand was on her leg, and his face was close to her own. “Am I permitted to return the favor?”

“I-if you want to.” She said, looking down shyly. He lifted her chin up and stroked his fingertip along her jaw, kissing her lips softly.

“I would love to.” He said, his hands unbuttoning her blouse, pulling it off and, to her amusement, folding it neatly and setting it down, a pointed look on his face. She giggled softly, sharing a small smile with him as she realized it was to make her laugh. He pulled her skirt down, leaning in and kissing along her neck, setting her entire body aflame. His hands felt even larger than she knew them to be, sliding and rubbing along her thighs, sending goosebumps along her skin. He dropped kisses to her shoulder, light, open mouthed ones accompanied by touches to her breasts. The room was too hot and she suddenly didn't know her body, the reactions and heat unfamiliar to her. She let out a slight whimper, leaning her head on his shoulder, welcoming his touch. He pulled her so she was in his lap, her hands holding his shirt to keep her upright. He kissed her on the lips softly, sliding her panties down and off.

“Are you sure it's okay?” He asked against her lips, and she was touched by how sweet, how caring he was. She nodded immediately, fully trusting him, and he smiled, kissing her on the forehead tenderly. She gasped softly as his finger gently delved inside her, her eyes falling shut. His touch was sweet and hesitant, as if he was worried she'd break, and she wondered if her hints about her inexperience had actually struck with him. It was strange and odd to have someone else in her body, but it was pleasant because it was Michael. He kissed her neck and gently nibbled the sensitive skin, making her quiver as his finger began to gently move in and out of her. She was quiet and stiff as she grew used to the feeling, and it soon became pleasant. Soon he added another finger, and she felt so wonderful she moaned, looking away from him in embarrassment.

“You're so beautiful.” He said with a smile, and she nuzzled into his shoulder. She jumped as he pressed his thumb on a sensitive bundle of nerves, her eyes widening at the sharp jolt of pleasure. “Did I hurt you?” He asked quickly, pulling his hand back, watching her closely.

“No, that just feels incredible.” She said softly, watching as he smirked a bit, returning his hands to her, slowly rubbing her clit in gentle circles. She cried out in pleasure, her head hanging back, her neck aching from the angle. She felt a warmth in her belly, a foreign and burning feeling, her eyes on him. She felt herself building to something new, and it was scary, so she gripped his arm, holding tight. She was worried about what was happening to her body, about the desperate and fiery feeling engulfing her. She went stiff, trying to fight off the feeling, wanting to hold on and enjoy this coursing pleasure.

“Let go, sweetheart.” He breathed into her ear, and she trusted him, so she obeyed, ceasing her fight. She let out a loud moan as her body came undone, the feeling both incredible and surprising. The pleasure coursed through her as it hit her sharply, her back arching, her eyes closing. She ran her hands through her hair, gently tugging as her hips bucked. Her head was dizzy and her mind blank, and her body felt like jello. She vaguely wondered if she was supposed to feel so limp, but she simply clung to him, not saying a word. She felt him press a kiss to the top of her head, and he tugged her body closer. He ran his hands along her, smiling slightly. She was certain they hadn't yet been this close, so she laid against him silently, enjoying the way he felt against her. Though the touches had started off as foreign and strange, they had quickly grown to enjoyable, something she was certain she wanted more of in the future. The additional feeling of how close they were was only a bonus.

“You are exquisite.” He murmured against her, laying back with her in his arms. She laid against him, smiling slightly and nuzzling him more, kissing the corner of his jaw. He pulled a blanket over them, sliding his hands along her arms. As the heat faded, she realized she was indeed chilly, so the gesture touched her, warming her up right away. 

“You're not so bad yourself.” She said with a smile, eliciting a soft chuckle. He shifted and swung his legs up on the couch, allowing her to nestle between them comfortably. 

“That's the best compliment you've ever paid me.” He teased, and she chuckled, reaching up and twirling a strand of his hair around her finger. 

“Is it? Then I think I owe you some more compliments.” She said, laying her ear over his heart, listening to the steady beat. “Have I ever told you how much I love your voice?”

“You haven't. What's so great about this old brogue?” He asked, and though she wasn't looking at him, she could hear the smile in his tone.

“So many things. I think it's sexy.” She said with a blush, lifting her head and leaning her hands on his chest. He lifted both eyebrows and smirked slightly, his hands running along her back.

“I don't believe anyone has ever described anything about me as sexy.” He said, a warm smile on his face, and she kissed his lips softly, her hand on his cheek.

“Maybe not to your face. Perhaps behind your back.” She said, gently stroking her hand across his cheek. He laughed, shaking his head.

“The local residents loathe me, so I don't think anyone is broadcasting finding me sexy.”

“Fine, then it's a dirty secret for them.” She said, and he didn't argue, just stared at her, his smile bright, gold tooth glinting from the faint light. 

“You're so beautiful. I can't even believe you looked twice at me, let alone that you're marrying me.” He said softly, and she chose to ignore the fact that she didn't have much of a choice, kissing his lips sweetly.

“Well, believe it, cause it's happening. And our wedding day is soon. So, soon we'll be husband and wife.” She said, more to remind herself than to remind him, and he looked so happy that it hurt her heart to think ill of their union. She was certain she hadn't ever seen him so at ease and so content, basking together in the aftermath of their touching. She realized then that she too was happy, and though it wasn't an ideal situation, it wasn't a bad one. They slept on the couch that night, both too exhausted and comfortable to bother with moving. She knew his leg would he screaming tomorrow, and she knew her neck would ache from the angle, but somehow it didn't matter. All that mattered was that, for the time being, she was home.


	16. Partners in Crime

The morning immediately after the night on the couch had proved interesting. She had never seen Michael so content. Ruby had not lied when she spoke of the power sexual activity. He was far less tense, and was all wide smiles and happy sighs. She knew he would revert right back to condensed and grumpy, but seeing him so carefree made her crave it. He drank less the following evening, distracted by her as she performed the act on him again.

Life with Michael meant life with his habits, even the annoying ones. Michael was by habit an early riser, and he would often disturb her as he slipped away from their bed. She had always been a light sleeper, and it was difficult for a sleepy, hungover man with a cane to remain quiet at 5 in the morning. She sipped her coffee as she leaned her chin in her hand, her eyes fluttering as she struggled to stay awake. Working had gone from mundane to difficult, as she had taken to falling asleep at her desk. Though they hardly had two appointments a day, it was still unprofessional.

She was dangerously close to falling asleep. Her eyes were heavy, so heavy she wasn't sure she could resist the urge to sleep. The sound of footsteps made her straighten, and she sighed as she saw Sidney Glass walking in. He made his way over to her desk, smiling at her politely, a vase containing flowers in his hands.

“Hello Isabel. How are you today?” He asked politely, offering her a bright smile, a fake smile that reminded her of Regina’s. She smiled softly, trying to hide her confusion at his appearance. She rarely spoke to the reporter, and while he seemed nice enough, he was suspicious.

“I'm doing well, thank you for asking. How are you, Sidney? What brings you here today?” She asked politely.

“Well, I'm here to congratulate you on your engagement to Mr. Gold.” He said, and she raised an eyebrow, her eyes trailing down to the flowers. He set the vase down on the counter. “For you and Mr. Gold.”

“Thank you very much, Sidney. That's very kind of you. I appreciate the support.” She said a bit awkwardly, silence falling upon the room. 

“What... Uh, what spurred this marriage? To my knowledge you two haven't been seeing each other long.” 

“Oh, you know. We just felt it was the right time.” She looked at him suspiciously, wondering where the interest had come from. He had rattled off the reasons why their union was a bad idea in the morning paper, going so far as to refer to her as naive and to him as predatory. She had read it over Michael's shoulder, and both had rolled their eyes, and he crumbled it up.

“You could take your pick of the men in this town. Why him?” He asked, and she felt agitation flare. 

“That's really not your business, Mr. Glass.”

“Sorry... Being a reporter, sometimes I asks a lot of questions.” He said sheepishly.

“I read your article. Why is it you come here to give me flowers as congratulations and then smear us in the paper?” She asked, watching his eyes widen. He was clearly surprised by her audacity. She was far less subdued these days, growing used to facing someone like Michael. Sidney wasn't even a quarter as intimidating as Michael had been before she got to know him.

“I uh... I write what sells. Mr. Gold is highly feared in this town, so an article about the perils you may face is what people want. It's not my opinion, I promise.” He said, anxiety shifting over his face. She rolled her eyes, leaning back in her chair.

“No, it's okay. I know what everyone thinks. I'm just wondering why an engagement is a big enough deal to be in the paper. It's our business.” She said, watching him smile uncomfortably. 

“You know, it's a small town. It's big news.” He said, shuffling his feet back and forth, looking away. She instantly knew he was lying about his reasons, and she frowned, leaning her chin on her hand. 

“I see.” She said flatly, looking up at him, showing her doubt. “Regardless, I don't mind. And Mr. Gold doesn't either.” She said, offering a smile accompanied by a shrug.

“I'm glad I haven't offended you. It was not my intention to do so.” He said, pushing his jacket up and glancing at his wristwatch. “I must be going. Thank you for your time.”

“Thanks for the flowers.” She said, and he nodded, bowing his head.

“Have a nice day.” He smiled once more, turning on his heel and walking out, glancing back again. The moment he was gone, she pulled her small cell phone out, calling her recently changed first speed dial. He picked up after several rings.

“Gold.” 

“You could say hello.” She said, holding the phone to her ear and rolling her eyes.

“Oh, hello dearest.” He said, and she could hear the smile in his voice. 

“Seriously, you sound so stuffy when you answer your phone.” She teased, and she could hear him sigh, so she smirked.

“You forget that I am a businessman. I'm supposed to sound stuffy, as you put it.” He said, and she could hear his cane tapping across the floor, the sound so familiar now. His voice was familiar and his mannerisms were. She was learning him, and it was comfortable and exhilarating. 

“Yeah, but it's me calling.” She pointed out, and she could envision the smirk on his face, the faint quirk as his eyes glittered with amusement. 

“Quite obviously. To what do I owe this phone call?”

“I have to ask you a question about someone. What do you know about Sidney Glass?” She asked quietly, rolling her chair back, spinning slowly. 

“Sidney Glass? I know that he's a weasel. He's not to be trusted. He more or less lives inside Regina's pocket, and I have reason to believe he is in love with her. Never trust the one who loves your enemy, as they can be more dangerous than your enemy. Love makes us act in insane ways.” He said, and she sighed slightly, leaning her head back. 

“He came by just now. To congratulate us.” She informed, and she could hear him scoff. 

“After that article. No, I imagine Regina put him up to it. She likely wants information. What did he ask?” 

“Why I picked you out of all the men in town.” She said softly, and he was silent a moment., though he sighed. 

“And did you mention it's because you've no choice?” He sounded bitter, full of self-loathing and disgust, and she felt for him, truly. But it was his own fault.

“You seem to forget that I did choose you. We were dating for a few weeks before. You just want more too soon.” She pointed out, frowning slightly.

“I suppose.”

“No, not suppose. I did. Don't try to take my choice away from me, because it was mine.” She snapped, and she could practically see his wince and feel his anxiety despite their distance.

“I'm not trying to take your decisions away from you. I apologize.” He said, and she knew he meant it, and she was proud. Proud because he was admitting his mistakes without making her wait hours or days.

“It's okay.” She said, making sure her voice was light and cheerful. “I'll let you go...”

“You say that as if I'm busy. I'm not. I was just repairing an old pocket watch. Though if you're busy...”

“I'm not.” She said, leaning her chin on her hand and leaning forward, smiling.

“Then perhaps we could keep each other busy.” He said casually, and she couldn't keep the smirk off her face. The phrase had other implications after their new nightly activities. But she really had to get her mind away from her salacious thoughts.

“That's a good idea.” She said with a smile. They spoke for around half an hour before one of her appointments was near, so she bid him a goodbye reluctantly.

As she was hanging up, the door opened, and a tall man in a leather jacket came striding in, walking a large Rottweiler. She glanced down at her planner. The dog's name was Sherman, and the owner was named Keith. They hadn't been in for some time, so she had forgotten all about him. The dog jumped up, putting his paws on the counter, and she giggled, patting his head. Dazzle hissed and hid under the counter, curled around her feet.

“Hello Isabel. We're here for our appointment.” He said, his eyes trailing down, using his height as a means to look down her shirt. She shifted in discomfort, memories of his harassment towards her finally coming back.

“It's certainly been awhile since you've come in.” She said, and he nodded, looking down at the dog.

“The Mayor was kind enough to remind me I had to register him again. So I need him up to date.” He explained, and she arched an eyebrow. Regina surely had more important things to attend to than dogs.

“I see. You can just have a seat. The doctor will be with you shortly.” She said curtly, and he smirked, leaning against her counter.

“I think I would rather wait here with you.” He said, flashing her what was meant as a charming smile. It just made her skin crawl. She laid her hand flat on the counter so her engagement ring was shining. It didn't seem to deter him. “I think we should spend some time together. Are you free tonight?” He asked, arching his eyebrow.

“I'm having dinner with my fiancé.” She said, watching disappointment and annoyance flit across his face.

“Your fiancé.” He repeated, rolling his eyes. “Right. That's the oldest excuse in the book. I won't give up though.” He promised, and she fought the urge to text Michael and tell him to come over. Dr. Thompson chose that moment to come out and welcome him in, and she breathed a sigh of relief. She waited tensely until she heard the jingling of of dog tags. Keith returned to her, and she already had the bill up, and told him the total without another word. He glared slightly, sliding his card and entering his pin, giving her one last sweeping look before walking out the door.

There weren't any other appointments for the rest of the day, so she waited until the end of her shift. She gathered up her bag and the vase from Sidney and made her way out. Michael was parked outside, his window down, his sunglasses hiding his eyes. He looked very handsome behind the wheel of the Cadillac, and she made her way over. She climbed into the passenger seat, smiling at him. 

“Hello beautiful.” He said with a smile of his own, and she leaned over, kissing him on the cheek. “And you even brought me flowers.”

“Sidney gave these to me.” She said, watching a suspicious look flit across his face. 

“Sidney did? Hmm...” He murmured a moment before putting the car in drive, pulling out and heading towards his house. “That doesn't sound right.”

“I didn't think so either. After what you said about him. Plus no one who knows we're engaged would risk upsetting you.” She said, and he chuckled, nodding his head in agreement.

“Flowers are a rather romantic gesture.” He agreed, moving one hand over to inspect them, running his finger along the rim. He pulled up to a red light, his eyebrows shooting above his glasses. He pulled his hand back, a small black device in his hand. “Or a gesture done for the sole purpose of spying on someone. It's a bug.” He said, rolling his eyes as he drove on, his hand clenched tightly around it. She gasped softly, shaking her head.

“I can't believe Sidney would do that...”

“Regina put him up to it, of course. I ought to put it on our bedroom if she wants to listen to is so bad.” He said, and she blushed, giggling. 

“Michael, you can't do that.” She said quickly, suddenly feeling very shy. She was unused to sharing a bedroom, let alone actually having activity whilst in it.

“I like to have you all to myself. No way I'm a sharing your lovely little noises with Regina.” He said, and she covered her mouth, her cheeks turning a deeper shade of red. He glanced over at her, laughing softly. “I'm sorry my darling, I don't mean to make you feel shy. You needn't be embarrassed around me.”

“It's just still so new.” She said softly, leaning her cheek on the seat and looking over at him. 

“It is. For both of us.” He said as he pulled up in front of his house, turning the engine off. She indulged him and remained in the car, giving him time to open her door up. He helped her out and closed it, his hand lightly on her waist as they walked to the door. He unlocked it, gesturing for her to head inside first. He followed behind her, walking her into the kitchen. He leaned down and kissed her properly, and she wound her arms around his neck. After a moment, she realized she could taste alcohol on his breath. She put her hands on his chest, gently pushing him off.

“You've been drinking. Did you drive after drinking?” She asked, watching him frown and look off.

“It wasn't very much. I was under the limit. I have a drink or two while in the shop.” He said defensively, and she sighed, folding her arms.

“If you're going to be drinking and driving, don't pick me up.” She said, watching him look at her in surprise. “That’s dangerous.”

“It's no matter. I-”

“I won't let you endanger me.” She said, watching his face soften.

“I'm sorry. That wasn't my intention.” He said softly, running his hands along her arms gently. 

“I worry about you. Everytime you come get me I'll be scared something will happen to you.” She said, leaning her hands on his chest.

“I'll tell you what.” He reached into his inner pocket, pulling a black flask out. “You can keep this. I won't bring it to work anymore. You're right. I shouldn't have you in the car if I've been drinking.” He said, and she took the container in her hands, holding it warily.

“Really? You're not going to fight me on this?”

“After what happened to my son... It is reckless of me to do this. I may be indifferent to my own safety, but yours is very important” He said, offering her a tight smile. She leaned in and kissed him, one hand resting on the side of his face.

“Thank you, Michael. This is a big step.” She said with a smile, kissing him again.

“It isn't. It's just common sense.” He protested, shifting away from her. She sighed, accepting he wasn't quite ready to acknowledge his problem. They had time. She decided to change the topic.

“What are we going to do with the bug?” She asked quietly, and he was thoughtful, shrugging. 

“I'll figure something out. I'm more concerned about dinner. How would you feel about Chinese?” He asked, and she nodded. He made his way over to a drawer, pulling out a menu to the only Chinese place in town. She called in the order, watching warily as he poured himself a drink. “Would you care for a glass?”

“Of scotch? Kind of heavy for me. I just know what you taste like from it.” She said, wrinkling her nose. He chuckled softly, leaning his hip on the counter.

“I do have other options. Some wine, perhaps? A wine cooler? Beer?”  
)  
“I don't really drink much. Maybe a wine cooler.” She said softly, inwardly cursing herself. She shouldn't have been encouraging him. It was too late, he had already pulled one out and opened it for her, and she took it. He led her into the living room, sitting beside her on the couch. They drank in silence for a moment, and he rested his hand on her leg.

“How was your day besides Mr. Glass' appearance?” His voice was quiet, free of any and all tension. It was refreshing.

“Nothing really happened. Someone asked me out though.” She said, watching a slight glare appear on his face, a scoff sounding.

“And whatever did you say?”

“I tried flashing my ring, but he didn't care. He's always very...Pushy, though.” She said, watching his eyes flash.

“What's this name?” His voice was low, and she knew if she was to say, Michael would surely go after him.

“It's not important. I said no. We don't have to focus on this.” She said, leaning up and kissing him.

“No, I-” She kissed along his jaw, gently nibbling. “I just want-” she kissed the side of his neck, making him hang his head back. She ran her hand along his thigh, grabbing hold of him through his pants, making gasp out on surprise. “Belle!” He said, pulling his head back to smirk at her. He gripped her chin, looking in her eyes before kissing her again. “You're a minx.” He said, running his thumb along her jaw as she giggled, kissing him again. He reached for her blouse, unbuttoning the first button just as the doorbell rang. He groaned, hanging his head back as he stood. “Just my luck.” He murmured, and she lost herself giggling, making him look at her.

“You might want to button your jacket.” She said, blushing as she pointed to the noticeable bulge in his pants. His cheeks heated slightly as he buttoned his jacket, tugging it down more in the front, grumbling to himself as he walked off. She followed him, standing a bit behind him as he opened the door.

“Hello Mr. Gold. It'll be $25.50.” The delivery boy said quickly, avoiding looking at her. Michael pulled his wallet out, then smirked slightly. 

“How would you like to make $500?” He asked, and the boy's eyes widened, and he nodded. 

“What do I have to do?” He asked, and Michael held a finger up. He went into the kitchen and returned with the bug, handing it to the boy.

“Plant that in your kitchen. I'm assuming it's loud back there?”

“Yes sir. The chef yells a lot. In Chinese.” 

“Excellent. Discreetly hide it and tell no one. I'll know if you don't. Here.” He pulled out a few bills for the order, then pulled out five crisp hundred dollar bills. He handed them to the kid, who tucked them away in his pocket. 

“Thank you, Mr. Gold!” He said quickly, turning and leaving, the bug in hand. Michael closed the door and turned to her, his lips quirked up.

“You're so clever. That's perfect.” She said with a giggle, walking into the living room with her. 

“Regina should learn not to challenge me.” He said, setting the bag down on the table. “Not to challenge us, rather.” He said as they sat, and she kissed him again, smiling. 

“I wish I could see her face when she hears it for the first time.”

“We can imagine it.” He said, smiling at her as he pulled the cartons out. 

“That we can.” She said, kissing him again, making him groan, leaning his head on her forehead.

“You're making it difficult to focus in the task at hand.” He smirked, and it was a pleasant smirk, his eyes lit up. 

“I'm sorry.”

“Patience darling. I won't make you wait long.” He said softly, kissing her on the forehead. And he meant it, because after dinner their clothes were pushed aside and he touched her again. It was better each time as she was growing comfortable with him, and she knew what to expect. She distracted him away from alcohol, making him focus on her, at least for the time being. She was disappointed to see the moment they finished, the drink returned to his hand. His arm was around her, a drink in the other hand, and for a moment she feared he would never choose her over the drink, should she make him. She forced those thoughts away, focusing on the rumble of his chest as he talked and the scent of his cologne as she laid close to him. They had a list of things to do, they had to get to know each other and she had to coax him into drinking less. Yet she didn't mind. She was willing to fight for him.


	17. The Rabbit Hole

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I want to begin by thanking all of you for your support and feedback. Today, this story hit 135 kudos, which is so much more than I ever expected. Thank you to everyone that clicks kudos and reviews, cause it really inspires me to continue.
> 
> Also, trigger warning for slight violence and sexual harassment this chapter.

It was two days before the wedding, and Ruby had insisted they go out, so Isabel found herself in front of the mirror. Though they were going to The Rabbit Hole, she still dressed herself conservatively. Ruby had spoke of a last night to flirt and have fun, but she didn't intend to do either. Ruby had been persistent, so she had eventually given in. She dressed in a tight but modest black dress, three inch heels matching. Her hair was down in loose curls, her makeup still light. She didn't want to receive much attention, but The Rabbit Hole wasn't the prime location to be left alone.

She knew Michael was likely uncomfortable with it. She had assured him she was only going to appease Ruby, but he had still seemed troubled. He hadn't said anything on the topic, but he didn't have to. She was learning to read him well, and his insecurities were eating him up. She would prove to him that she could be trusted in such a situation. 

She made her way down the staircase, heading into the living room where he was sat. He had a bottle of scotch and a glass, his back to her. She made her way over to the armchair, sitting on the arm and wrapping an arm around his shoulder. He looked up at her, titling his head to the side. She ran her hand through his hair slowly, watching as a look of relaxed pleasure came across his face.

“Ruby will be here soon.” She said softly, still stroking his hair, watching as he nodded slightly.

“I know. You look wonderful. I'm a bit jealous I won't be there to enjoy it.” His voice was muted, his eyes hooded as he enjoyed his time with her. She stood up, moving and sitting fully in his lap. She watched as his eyes flashed, his arm coming around her waist. She plucked the scotch out of his hand, setting it down on the table. He grumbled slightly, but didn't protest, his other hand coming to rest on her leg. 

“You'll get to see me when I get home. I won't be out too late, I'm just going to silence Ruby.” She promised, her arms around his neck. She stroked the back of it softly, watching as he leaned back, his hand gently caressing her leg.

“This isn't some frivolous bachelorette party?” 

“Of course not.” She giggled softly, leaning her head on his neck. She heard a honk from outside, quickly standing up from his lap. He followed her, fidgeting slightly.

“If you need anything, call me. I can be there in minutes.” He said, walking after her as she headed to the door, limping as fast as he could. “I'm not going to drink that scotch. Just in case you need me.”

“I'll be fine.” She chuckled, leaning up to peck him on the lips.

“Watch your drinks. Trust no one.” He warned, and she rolled her eyes.

“Michael, please. You're sounding like my father, and it's really unsettling.” She teased, making him blush slightly, hanging his head.

“The Rabbit Hole is a vile establishment. The crowd that frequents it does not consist of good people.” He protested, standing by the door with her.

“I know. I'll call you if anything happens. Don't expect a call.” She said, and he nodded, leaning heavily on his cane. “I'll see you, Michael.” She said, rubbing his arm gently before she made her way out, climbing inside the red car.

“Izzy! You look hot! Love the dress!” Ruby greeted, her own dress red and dangerously short. “Aww, look at Mr. Gold. He looks like a kicked puppy.” Ruby said, nodding her head to where he stood in the ajar doorway. He waved awkwardly, and she blew him a kiss as Ruby drove away.

“He hates The Rabbit Hole. He's scared something bad is going to happen.” She said, and Ruby laughed softly, rolling her eyes.

“It's kind of cute that he's so protective of you. That sounds nice.” She said, and Isabel could detect a hint of yearning, and it made her frown. Ruby had no shortage of men in her life, but she never really had anything serious. She sincerely hoped she someday had exactly what she wanted. She certainly deserved it.

The girls chatted lightly on the way to the club, laughing and feeding off the other's energy. Ruby's excitement for the outing was rubbing off on her, and she was beginning to look forward to it more. Ruby parked in the back, and the girls strutted inside. Isabel couldn't help but blush when the eyes of all the men in the room turned to the two of them. Since she was with Michael, the attention was more uncomfortable than flattering. They made their way over to the bar, ordering margaritas. The moment they were finished, they two men came up, sitting on both sides of them. Ruby immediately began to chat and flirt, and Isabel realized with disdain that Keith was on her side.

“Hey baby. You look hot.” He said, his eyes traveling over her body, and she tugged her dress down over her long legs, keeping her gaze forward.

“Don't call me baby, please.” She said, and he chuckled. It made her burn with anger to be laughed at. His chuckle wasn't warm and playful. It was mocking.

“My bad. Let me get your drink for you.” He said, nodding to the bartender, who got the message. Keith straightened out his leather jacket, briefly laying his hand across her leg. A shudder crept up her spine, one nothing like the chills Michael gave her. It was one of fear and discomfort. She glanced to Ruby. She was too caught up in her companion to notice her trouble. “You have the finest legs I've ever seen.” He said, smirking at her lecherously. She said nothing as her drink was brought over, and she immediately took a sip, keeping it close to her. “Aw, come on. Don't play hard to get.”

“Look, I'm not interested in you. I'm engaged, and I'm getting married in two days.” She said firmly, and he smiled at her.

“And I'm very discreet. I've had my eye on you for years. Come on. One last good time before you're chained down.” He said, running his hand along her leg again. “I know you want it.”

“You don't know anything.” She snapped, turning back to her drink. He scoffed, giving her a scathing look before he stood. He bumped her shoulder as he walked away, and she breathed a sigh of relief. Ruby turned back to her, looking at her in concern.

“Are you alright? I know this isn't your scene. We don't have to stay long.” She said, though Isabel could hear the disappointment in her voice.

“I don't mind staying. I just want that Keith guy to leave me alone.” She admitted, and Ruby turned to look at him, her lip curling up.

“He's so pushy. He does it to all the pretty girls.” She said, and Isabel glanced over, seeing her had already moved on, flirting with a pretty blonde. She felt for the girl, but she was slightly relieved it wasn't her. “But let's forget him. Are you excited to marry Gold?” She asked, and truly, it was a loaded question. 

“I'm kind of nervous. But part of me is excited too. Part of me is less than eager. I'm feeling a lot of different things about it.” She twirled her engagement ring around her finger, looking down at it as it glimmered.

“He seems to really care about you, even if it's early. And... The detail you mentioned. I know it's not what you expected, but maybe it's what's meant to be. I always thought Gold was just bitter and cruel, but then I saw the way he looks at you.” She said, and it warmed Isabel's heart. It meant she wasn't imaging the immense affection in his eyes.

“He's actually pretty sweet. We have problems, of course. There's a lot we don't know about each other, but we're working on it. It's nice because we both want the same thing.” She said, taking a sip of her drink, waving the bartender over and ordering another. 

“Hey Ruby, this one is on him.” The bartender said, gesturing over to a man. “And yours is on Keith.” He said, and Isabel sighed, because she had thought he had given up. Still, a free drink was a free drink.

“All relationships are full of problems. It's normal.” Ruby said with a shrug, looking thoughtful. “Love would be boring if it was easy.”

“I know. It's just hard. Sometimes he makes me feel so light and special. Then he talks and ruins everything.” She said, surprised to hear Ruby laugh loudly, laying her hand on her arm.

“Sounds like a normal guy.” She said, and Isabel joined her in her giggling, shaking her head. “The things we put up with.” 

They sat together, drinking and talking, giggling plenty. All their drinks were bought for them by various men, and after a few, Isabel was feeling a little light headed. She cut herself off, deciding to be responsible lest something6 go wrong. Michael's paranoia had rubbed off her, and in such a place it was best to be careful.

“We should dance!” Ruby said, and she sighed, standing up and indulging her. They made their way over to the dance floor, acting whimsical and free as they danced together. All the eyes in the room were on the girls, looks of lust and approval evident. She was truly having fun, until she felt hands grip her waist. She turned, seeing Keith leering at her. He pulled her close, and she shoved him back with all her strength.

“Get off me!” She yelled, gasping out as he gripped her arms hard, hard enough that she worried it would bruise.

“You owe me! I bought you all your drinks.” He said, running one hand down to grope at her behind. 

“Hey, let her go. She owes you nothing.” Ruby said, giving him a harsh look as she tried to pull Isabel away.

“You should feel lucky. Girls would kill to be with me.” He spat out, not letting go of her. 

“I said to get off me.” She said, trying to keep the tremble of fear out of her voice. 

“Ungrateful bitch.” He growled, reaching up and yanking hard on her dress, ripping the top of it. She gasped out and grabbed at the fabric, trying to hold it up as she was exposed to all. She heard gasps and even a cheer or two, and she had never felt more ashamed. Ruby quickly stood in front of her, shielding her. She led Isabel over to a table, pushing her into it. Ruby sat in the booth, looking at her in pity as her eyes filled with tears.

“I'm calling M-Michael.” She said, the tears flowing down her cheeks. Ruby quickly nodded, swatting a guy away as he came over with a smirk. She pulled her phone out with a trembling hand, hitting her speed dialing and waiting. He answered on the first ring.

“Isabel's fiancé. Is that a better way to answer?” He asked, and normally she would have giggled, but she was too devastated to focus on any humor.

“M-Michael...” She murmured in her choked up voice, trying to get herself under control to speak.

“What's wrong? Are you alright?” He asked in genuine panic, and she heard the jingling of keys.

“Will you c-come down? There's this g-guy and... My d-dress is ripped. I need you.” She said, her voice finishing on a pathetic near whimper.

“I'm already walking out the door. Do you want me to stay on the line?” He asked, and she could hear him close a door, and his promptness stunned her.

“That's okay. Ruby's h-here.” She said quietly, and she heard him slam the car door, his tires squealing as he pulled out quickly.

“Five minutes. Don't move.” He said, and she whispered her thanks, hanging up the phone. Ruby stayed with her the whole time, her arm around her as she cried into her hand, the other holding her dress up. In four very long and slow minutes, Ruby tapped her arm.

“He's here.” She said, scooting out of the booth, sitting across the table. She watched Michael limp over to her, down in the booth and gently holding her arms. He was out of breath and surely in pain, and she appreciated how quickly he had come.

“What happened? Are you alright?” He asked, catching sight of her dress. “Jesus...” He murmured, pulling his suit jacket off fluidity. She held her dress up and held one arm out at a time, slipping them into the sleeves. He straightened it out in the front, and it was large enough on her that it covered her. Since her hands were free she was able to sink into his chest, wrapping her arms around him and crying softly into his tie. He wrapped his arms around her, running his hands along her arms. “What happened?” He repeated, tightening his grip on her protectively, kissing her on the hair. She couldn't speak, her throat too tight, and she felt him look to Ruby.

“Some guy was hounding her all night. Wouldn't take no for an answer. He called her a bitch and ripped her dress open.” She explained, and Isabel looked up at him, watching a snarl appear on his face.

“It was s-so embarrassing.” She whispered to him, and he held her tightly, leaning his chin on her head.

“I'm here now, love. I'm here for you. I won't leave.” He promised, and she sank into him, feeling safe for the first time. He held her for a few minutes, waiting until she calmed to tilt her chin up. “Who did this?”

“His name is Keith. He's the one who asked me out the other day.” She said, pointing over to him. He was seated at the bar, his back to them. She watched Michael's eyes narrow, and he slowly pulled away from her.

“Well I think it's time I spoke with Keith.” He said, standing up from the booth, straightening out his vest and picking his cane up. Isabel quickly got up, Ruby following as Michael made his way across the room. He tapped Keith on the shoulder, and he turned with a smirk. It quickly faded.

“Mr. Gold! Hello! What a surprise to see you here.” He said nervously, reaching out and clapping him on the arm.

“I heard you were sexually harassing my fiancée.” He said slowly, his voice dangerous, and Keith's eyes widened, and he looked terrified.

“Isabel is engaged to you?” He asked, and Michael nodded, his teeth grounded together. “I am s-so sorry, sir. She didn't mention it was you.”

“But she mentioned she was engaged. And she's wearing a ring. And she said no. And yet you persisted.” He said, his body rigid as he held himself back from stroking. He was like a cobra waiting for the perfect moment. “Have you no respect?”

“I had no idea. I wouldn't have bothered her if I knew she was yours.” He said quickly, swallowing hard. Isabel and Ruby both gasped out as Michael raised his fist, punching him right in the face. He grabbed him by the jacket, shoving him down to the floor, raising his cane and bringing it down against his face. He bent over him, hitting him again, making blood burst out from his nose. He raised it repeatedly, making Keith groan and squirm, trying desperately to get Michael off. 

“Michael! Stop it!” Isabel said, standing behind him as he pounded the man's face in. He didn't listen, instead standing to focus on his ribs. His face was bloodied and his nose surely broken, his eyes squeezed shut as Michael attacked him. Isabel gently laid her hand on his back, trying to pull his vest. “Michael, please! You're better than this! This isn't you!” She said desperately, and he slowly backed up, breathing a bit heavily as he stood, his shoulders hunched over. She grabbed his arm gently, pressing herself into his back, soothingly stroking his arm. He slowly turned to look at her, and she nearly backed away from his expression. He looked feral. But she wasn't scared of him. “That's enough.”

“I have to make him pay for what he's done.” He protested, and she pulled his cane out of his cane, shaking her head.

“You're better than him.” She said, and he took a deep breath, nodding. 

“As you wish.” He said softly, backing away from the fallen man. She ran her hands down his chest gently, and he rested his hands on her hips. He wiped the bloodied handle of his cane off on Keith's shirt, straightening up as the battered man coughed up blood. “Shall we head home?” He asked, and she quickly nodded. He turned to Ruby. “Do you need me to drop you off? I can tell you've both been drinking.” He observed, and Ruby smiled. His arm came around her shoulder tightly, keeping her close to his body.

“I would appreciate that. Thank you.” She said, and he nodded, gesturing for her to follow them. He lead both girls out to the Cadillac. To her surprise, he held both doors open. Ruby looked surprised as well, climbing into the back. He made his way over to the driver's side, getting in and starting the car. No one spoke as he drove, though he kept her hand in his own. She appreciated the silent gesture of support. He pulled up outside of Ruby's house.

“Thank you for staying.” Isabel said quietly, and Ruby waved her hand, shaking her head.

“I wouldn't have been a good friend if I left you. Feel better. And thank you Mr. Gold.” She said, and he nodded politely. She got out of the car, waving as she made her way inside. Michael took off again, glancing over at her.

“How are you feeling? Better?”

“I think I would be a lot worse if I wasn't a little drunk.” She admitted, and he smiled slightly, squeezing her hand.

“Alcohol is good for some things.” He decided, and she was silent. Even though she wasn't all there, she didn't want to encourage drinking. She could see him glance at her again before he fell silent. Once they were at his house, he got out of the car, making his way to her side. He helped her out, his arm coming around her waist to help her walk. She leaned her head on his chest, and she would have stumbled if it wasn't for him. He opened the door and took her right to the stairs, leading her up to their bedroom. He sat her down on the edge of the bed, easing her heels off and pulling his jacket off her. She didn't move, letting him take care of her. “I quite liked this dress.” He said, making his way over to her dresser, pulling one of her nightgowns out. “I'll give you some privacy. I'll be back soon.” He said, kissing her on the forehead and exiting the room. 

She changed into the nightgown, looking down at her arms. There were angry bruises forming on her skin, and she sighed slightly, rubbing her hands along the skin burrowed under the blankets of the bed, pulling them up securely over her body. She sighed, remembering the feeling of his grimy hands hands running along her and shuddering. She suddenly wished Michael was by her side, and sat up slightly, staring at the door. A few minutes later she heard him thumping up the stairs. He closed the door behind him, giving her a slight smile. He changed into his pajamas, coming over and climbing in beside her. She instantly melted into his arms, sighing as she breathed him in. She wrinkled her nose as she smelt his alcohol laced breath, though she realized her's was likely similar.

“Thank you for coming to get me so quickly. I was so scared.” She admitted, and he held her tighter, kissing her on the forehead.

“I know. I could tell when I heard your voice. I haven't moved that quickly in years. I ran several red lights.” He said with a small smirk, and she couldn't help but giggle.

“You could have gotten pulled over and taken longer to get to me.”

“You say that as if I would actually stop.” He said, and she rolled her eyes, leaning on his chest more. “You let me know if he ever gives you more trouble. Though I imagine he won't.”

“I should have just said we were engaged first. I didn't even think about your reputation. He would have left right away.” She spoke sadly, running her hand along his chest slowly, touching the soft silk of his pajamas.

“Apparently fear of my wrath is necessary for some to respect you.” He said, sighing softly, looking down at her. “You should get some sleep. You've had one hell of a night.” 

“Don't leave me at all.” She murmured, and he nodded, kissing her on the forehead.

“I will never leave you, Isabel.” And it was a promise, she knew.

“Goodnight Michael.” She murmured, leaning up and kissing him slowly, languidly, before leaning her head on his chest again. As she listened to his steady heartbeat and felt his gentle touch to her arm, she realized something startling. For the briefest moment, she very nearly loved him. He was so devoted, and it was so much more than a marriage based off a favor being owed. She felt so much that her heart may burst, so she squeezed her eyes shut and nuzzled him more. She fell asleep in Michael's arms, and she was certain they were the safest, warmest, and loveliest place in the world.


	18. Mr. And Mrs. Gold

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Once again, thank you so much for all the support! I love reading your comments and checking the fic to see it's gotten more kudos. I'm sorry this chapter was a bit slow, I've been doing a promptathon on tumblr, so I've been writing those! I will be uploading those fics here if anyone is interested!

It was finally the day. The day Isabel was to marry Michael Gold. She was feeling a whirlwind of emotions, emotions she couldn't possibly fathom, emotions that were nearly crippling. She was happy, yet angry, excited, yet nervous. Above all, she was determined. Determined to get through this day with a smile, and become his wife, determined to fall in love. It sounded silly, absurd even, to be so set on falling in love with a specific person. But someday, she would be able to look him in the eyes, and truly mean the words 'I love you.'

Michael had gone to the shop in order to give her adequate privacy to prepare, so she found herself alone in their bedroom. The bedroom was the sole place in his house that felt like her own, so she was comfortable there. She had decided to wear white, but they were holding the wedding out by the pier, so she had chosen a shorter dress. It came down to above her knee, and she wore white high heels, and she had been so careful not to select some that would make her taller than he. She wore her hair down and to the side, the loose curls shiny and pleasantly scented. Her makeup was light and natural, her lips pink and kissable. 

She reached down and switched her engagement ring to her other hand, freeing up her finger for the wedding band. She had grown so accustomed to having it on that it was strange to look at her now empty ring finger, but she knew it was only temporary. She made her way over to the full length mirror, smoothing her hands down her dress, straightening it out. She ran her eyes along herself, her eyes going over every detail of herself. For the first time, she truly felt she looked beautiful, and she smiled slightly. 

Wedding days were supposed to be the happiest day of a woman's life, or so she had always thought. And yet this didn't feel like the happiest day. It was the end of her life as she knew it, and while she had grown used to a life with him in it, she wasn't sure she would grow used to a life that revolved around him. She would no longer be Isabel French, instead she would be Isabel Gold. 

Mrs. Gold.

It was terrifying to think that so much could change with just two words. Two words and her fate was sealed, she was bound to a Michael Gold forever. Though their time together had been brief, they had formed many memories together. Some had started out wonderfully, only to be crushed by Michael doing something offensive or disrespectful. Some, like their fumble on the ouch and their nights in bed had been wonderful throughout the entirety. They had had many ups and downs, and she was sure things would continue like that, but strangely, she didn't mind. Michael gave her both excitement and romance, the former something she had always wanted and the latter something she now realized she needed. 

Though she lacked a flowing white gown and a veil, she truly looked like a bride as she held a small bouquet in her hands. She glanced at the clock and knew it was time, so she made her way downstairs. Michael's questionable employee Dove was waiting by the door, and he bowed his head, escorting her to the Cadillac. He helped her into the back and climbed into the driver's seat, so tall his head nearly brushed the roof.

As he drove, she stared down at the flowers, nervously plucking at one of the petals. Her father hadn't wanted to provide them with flowers, and as the only floral shop in town, they had almost had to go without. Michael had promised to work some magic, and as usual, he had been successful in his endeavor. He hadn't told her just what he had to do to get the flowers, though she was fairly certain it involved either threats or a large sum. She was also fairly certain that it meant her father wasn't coming.

She understood why he didn't approve of Michael, and they hadn't given him much time to adjust to it. Michael had a nasty temper, and a nastier reputation, so he truly wasn't a man's choice for his daughter to wed. But what mattered was that he was her choice, and her father should have accepted that. Now, he had made his own choice, and it was to miss the day of his daughter's wedding. She wasn't going to let it put a damper on her day. She was going to focus on what this meant for the future, not on the past her father was trying to tie her to.

She wondered what her fiancé was doing. Was he as nervous as she was, or did he simply want to get it over with? Though it had started as a deal, she liked to think it had become more than just that the past weeks. They had come far in such a short time, so it was surely more than just business now. She was good at reading people, and Michael was clumsy and awkward with her, unsure and almost shy at times. Unless she had it all wrong, she was certain he felt strongly for her. Mr. Gold didn't knock glasses of water over during dinner, and Mr. Gold didn't stutter when she flirted with him. Michael did those things, and Michael was her's.

Dove stopped the car slowly, and she felt her heart rate pick up. He opened her door and helped her out, and she looked to where Ruby stood. The girl rushed over to her, gasping as she looked her over, her own red dress clinging to her body. If Isabel didn't know of Ruby's love of red, she would have assumed she was trying to steal the show.

“You look gorgeous. Might as well just rip his heart out now, cause it's going to beat a hole in his chest.” She said with a grin, giving her a gentle hug. “Mary Margaret and Graham are with Mr. Gold. I can't believe you didn't want anyone else to come, you look killer.”

“I didn't want Michael to feel like he has to put on his tough guy act. And no one else really matters to me. You guys are my only friends, and Graham is the only person in town who doesn't hate Michael. It's better this way.” She said softly, smoothing her dress down in the front, looking over herself again.

“I can't complain, you invited one of the hottest guys in town.” Ruby said with a smirk, and Isabel rolled her eyes, pleased Ruby was being normal despite the circumstances. “I tried to talk to Gold, but he's no less stubborn. You should see him, he's looking pretty good himself. He looks so nervous though. Like he's scared you'll stand him up.” She added, and Isabel's heart warmed at the thought, a small smile on her face. She had been right, and now she truly couldn't wait to see Michael.

“I'm ready.” She decided with a smile, and Ruby made an excited noise, nodding. She rushed off, leaving her to her thoughts. In a matter of minutes, she would stand before Michael, and she would marry him. She wasn't sure she could handle all of the emotions whirling in her. Happiness however, she could handle, so she focused mostly on that. She knew her day would be much better, more jovial, if she ignored the sadness and near mourning she felt. It wasn't good to repress one's emotions, but in this situation it was necessary. She would focus on one thing at a time, and right now, it was her happiness.

Dove gestured for her to walk forward, and she made her way along the pier. She held the flowers tightly, her legs moving on their own accord. She could see Michael standing in the distance, his hands neatly clasped in front of him. The closer she got, the greater the urge to run far, far away became. But she was supposed to be happy, and happy Isabel wanted to marry him, so she walked a bit faster. She focused on his face as his eyes took her in. He was staring at her with the usual awe, his eyebrows knit and his eyes on her, his mouth hanging open slightly. Suddenly, she was the only woman in the world, and he was the only man, and they were all that mattered. He was looking at her as if it was the last time he'd ever lay eyes on her, and she was certain he wasn't breathing, because she wasn't breathing herself. She couldn't fathom her thoughts into anything coherent, so she just stared at him, taking him in. He had never looked more handsome in his dark suit and pale blue shirt, the light patterned tie highlighted by his pocket square. His cane was in Graham's hand, so both of his were clasped tightly. She walked until she was directly in front of him, watching his awe only grow.

“You look so beautiful.” He whispered in a slightly choked voice, swallowing a lump in his throat. She smiled and looked down, holding her bouquet as tightly as he held his own hands. She was shaking slightly, and glanced over to the trio in attendance. They stood back, lined up in front of them, and she was again thankful for the intimacy of the ceremony, thankful that it was something that was theirs and no one else's. 

“So do you.” She returned, though she blushed, looking at him sheepishly. “Well, handsome.” She corrected, and he just smiled at her, the smile warm and full. It was easier to be happy once she saw his own happiness. 

She recognized the Justice of the Peace as the owner of a small but rambunctious beagle, and he gave her a slight smile. She was fairly surprised Storybrooke even had one, but Michael had likely taken care of it to ensure there was one. He reached over and took one of her hands in his own, holding it loosely.

“Ladies and gentleman, we are gathered here today to celebrate the marriage of Michael Gold and Isabel French. Marriage is the union between two people who love and respect each other, who trust and honor one another. It enables the two separate souls to join as one, to share in their sorrows and joys, in their triumphs and their failures.” He began in an even tone, and Isabel couldn't keep the slight discomfort away. She didn't love Michael, and marriage clearly wasn't for her, and yet here she was, forced into a union. A small voice reminded her that she didn't even try to get out of it, because a part of her wanted it. She could have easily gotten Michael to change his mind, and yet she didn't even try.

“Marriage has certain qualities of a contract, in which two people join together, taking on life's task as partners, to enhance their joys. However, marriage is much more than a contract, but rather a commitment of two hearts. A commitment to take on happiness as a pair, rather than alone. And yet, marriage runs deeper than a commitment. Marriage is I love you. I trust you. I will protect you.” He said, and Michael smiled warmly, giving her hand a firm squeeze. Out of the three, protection was the only thing she could count on from him. She knew he didn't totally trust her, and he couldn't possibly love her, even if he looked at her with love in his eyes.

“Michael, do you take Isabel, to be your lawful wedded wife? Will you love, comfort, honor and protect her; forsaking all others to be faithful to her until death do you apart?”

“I do.” He said instantaneously, squeezing her hand tightly, moving her hand back and forth.

“Isabel, do you take Michael, to be your lawful wedded husband? Will you love, comfort, honor and protect him; forsaking all others to be faithful to him until death do you apart?”

She hesitated for a brief moment. This was the biggest moment of her life, and the most important question she had ever answered. I and do were two of the simplest words, and yet together they held an unfathomable power. She watched Michael's smile fade a notice, shifting his weight nervously.

“I do.” She said in the strongest voice she could manage, and Michael's smile returned, and she gave him one back. Ruby stepped forward with two rings, and they both took one. Michael slid the golden, diamond encrusted wedding band onto her finger. She slid a plain gold band onto his, very nearly dropping it, her cheeks turning a pink color as she fumbled with it. He chuckled slightly, smiling reassuringly.

“I now pronounce you husband and wife. You may now kiss the bride.” He said, and Michael wrapped his arms around her, leaning in and pressing a deep kiss to her lips. Their three guests began applauding, and he slowly pulled back, sharing a small smile with her, leaning his forehead on her own. Their hands entwined and he led her over to the group, both wearing small smiles.

“Congratulations Mr. And Mrs. Gold.” Graham said with a small, slightly awkward smile, giving Michael a firm handshake. Isabel just smiled at him, because she truly appreciated the way he was trying, trying to be nice to a man who had likely threatened him several times. 

“It was a beautiful ceremony.” Mary Margaret said shyly, avoiding looking at Michael, her hand closed around one of her wrists.

“I agree. Congratulations to the happy couple.” Said an even tone, and Graham stepped to side to reveal a smiling Regina, her hands on her hips. Isabel gasped softly, grabbing hold of Michael's hand, stepping closer to him. Something about the way the Mayor was smiling frightened her, there was something dark hidden beneath the polite line.

“Thank you Miss Mills. We truly appreciate your blessing.” Michael said, though the words came out as a slight sneer, his arm sliding around her waist. They stood united, a strong image, but it didn't stop Regina from approaching them. “Have you learned any new languages lately, by chance?” She didn't answer, giving him a scathing look.

“I can't help but notice your father isn't in attendance, dear. It's quite a shame that you traded him for Mr. Gold.” Regina said, pouting at her mockingly, tilting her head to the side. 

“That was his choice. Not mine.” Isabel said strongly, her hand bunched up in Michael's jacket, holding it tightly. 

“And I don't believe my wife's personal life is any of your business.” Michael said stiffly, and a fuzzy feeling built up within her despite the serious situation. It was odd to be referred to as a wife, but she couldn't deny there was an appeal to it. 

“I'm simply speaking out in concern. I wish you well on this day, but I suggest you be careful.” She said, smirking slightly as she looked at them, disgust flooding into her eyes.

“Your threats mean nothing to me. You may think you're intimidating, but truly, you're just like a rather annoying itch.” Michael said, his tone bored and yet sharp, his eyes never leaving Regina. His lips curled up and he stood up straight, his other hand gripping his cane in a hard grip.

“If it means nothing, then don't listen. I warned you.” She said, smiling at both of them in turn. Isabel watched her give a long, lingering look to Graham, her eyes conveying a secret message. She turned on her heel and strutted off, leaving the small gathering silent.

“Well, that's that.” Michael said with a shrug, turning to face her, his hand sliding up her back.

“You're not at all concerned about her?”

“No, I'm not. I can handle Regina. You don't have to worry, my wife.” He said softly, his voice just for her. The guests were all silent, still seeming to ponder Regina's appearance. It was Ruby who broke their silence, a smile on her face.

“Well, Regina may not like it, but I think you guys make a great couple.” She said, stepping forward and laying a supportive hand on Isabel's arm.

“I care more about what you think than I do what she thinks. Nothing can change the fact that we're married now.” She said, laying her hand over Michael's cane, gently squeezing. He smiled slightly, looking down at her hand, then he met her eyes. She was nearly blown away by how happy he looked, and she couldn't help but smile back. She leaned up and placed a soft kiss on his lips, stroking down his shoulder. “Now, let's enjoy the rest of our wedding day.” She said, and they proceeded to the car where Dove awaited them. They had a small gathering at Granny's, which Michael had demanded be closed for for the day, given he owned it. She ignored Granny's looks of disdain as she sat with her husband, talking and laughing, truly at ease.

In the evening, they returned to his house. He apologized repeatedly for being unable to carry her across the threshold, and she just smiled, his bursts of sweetness dear to her. She was slightly nervous for what was to come for the wedding night, but their precious closeness gave her a slight confidence boost. She began to make her way upstairs, but he grabbed her wrist, gently pulling her back. She turned to look at him in confusion, surprised he wasn't more eager to get to the bedroom.

“What's wrong, Michael?” She asked softly, reaching down to take his hand, slightly nervous. 

“Nothing is wrong. I just wanted to present your wedding gift to you.” He said with a small smirk, and her face lit up, the nerves fading away instantly. 

“What is it? Show me!” She said excitedly, and he let out a rich chuckle. He led her through the living room, towards a door that had always been locked. She had assumed it to be a private room of his, and hadn't pressed the issue when he wouldn't tell her.

“I wouldn't let you in here because it's housing your gift.” He explained, pulling a small key out of his pocket, inserting it into the lock. He turned it slowly, making her shift with anticipation. He pushed the door open and lead her in, flicking a light switch on. She let out an audible gasp. There were floor to ceiling bookshelves that were packed full, books of all colors and sizes present. There was a comfortable nook as well as a plush chair, and one bookshelf was only half full, giving her space for her own books that were still hastily in a box. It was decorated in rich shades of purple, and had hardwood floors partially covered with a soft looking area rug. She looked around with her mouth agape, her hand coming up to cover it. He was watching her with a small smile, and she turned to face him completely.

“This is for me?”

“Indeed it is. Your own library.” He said with a smile, and she barreled into him, giving him a tight hug. He chuckled as he was knocked back, holding them both up as best he could. She swayed back and forth as she hugged him, a wide smile on her face.

“This is the most amazing thing you've done for me. The most amazing thing anyone has done for me. I love it so much.” She said, leaning in and peppering sweet kisses along his jaw and cheek. She pulled back just enough to look in his eyes, smiling brightly at him. 

“It seems I've just set the bar higher for myself.” He joke softly, and she giggled, leaning her head on his chest. She remained against him a moment before venturing over to the shelves, taking the sight of the books in. Many were novels she recognized but had never read due to availability, and she lovingly trailed her hand along the row of spines, some worn and some new.

“When you gave me your favorite book, I was so happy. But this... This is just amazing. I don't know how I can thank you.” She breathed out, leaning up and kissing him deeply, pressing closer to him.

“Thank me by making good use of it, which I know you will.” He said with a smile, and she returned it, looking up at him with a twinkle in her eyes.

“I will. But not tonight. Tonight we have something to do.” She said softly, running her hands along his chest, leaning into him. He stared down at her quietly, an unreadable look on his face.

“Are you sure? You needn't if you don't feel ready.” He said immediately, his hands lightly resting on her hips, his touch shy and unsure. “I'll wait as long as you want.”

“It's our wedding night. The time is right.” She whispered, threading her fingers through his, tugging his arm and leading him. He followed her in stunned silence, his cane taping lightly as it went across the floor. They went up to their room, and he closed the door behind them, turning a light on awkwardly. He was staring down at her hungrily, his eyes full of affection and warmth and lust. She leaned up and kissed him, kissing her nerves away and pressing closer. Her heart fluttered in her chest and her eyes closed, and though she was anxious and shy and not totally in love, she was ready and willing.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> ...And you have to wait until next chapter for the smut! ;D


	19. Belonging

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I promised smut, and here it is, a chapter full. I should warn you all, I don't usually write this type of smut. If you've ready any of my other smut fics, you'll know what I mean. I haven't written a first time in years, so I hope I did it justice. Also, some of you have already seen, but I have started a new series. It's called Dealing With Extras, and it's for extra scenes within this fic, or things from Gold's POV. I've posted two so far, and I would love if you checked them out and gave them feedback, or kudos if you like them. As always, thank you for all your comments and kudos here! I've kept you from your smut long enough, so enjoy!

Michael seemed to be just as nervous as she was. He looked as if he was melting in his suit, beads of sweat gathered at his temple, his hands trembling. He stared down at her mutely as she led him over to the bed, looking up at him shyly. She unbuttoned his suit with hands that mimicked his, her eyes on his own.

“You seem anxious.” He said softly, reaching his hands up to cover her own in his much larger ones.

“So do you.”

“I'm anxious because you're anxious. I don't want to do this only to fill you with regret.” He said, running his thumb over the back of her hand, looking at her in apparent concern. She smiled, a small, slight quirk of the lips, gently taking his face in her hands. She ran her fingertips along his jaw, able to see him shudder from her touch, his eyes briefly closing.

“I won't regret this. I know you'll make it very special. I trust you.” She said firmly, brushing her finger over his lips.

“I mean what I said awhile back. It's been quite some time.” He admitted sheepishly, scratching the back of his head. “What about you?” He asked, and her cheeks flushed in embarrassment, her eyes falling down to examine the hardwood floor.

“Oh god, I thought you picked up on it.” She breathed out, and he tilted his head, looking at her curiously. 

“Picked up on what?” He asked hesitantly, looking uncomfortable, and she knew he was expecting the worst of her, expecting to hear she had slept with someone the day before their wedding. Old habits truly did die hard, but die they would.

“Michael... I'm a virgin.” She said softly, putting emphasis on the word to truly convey it. He gasped softly, his eyes going wide as he stared at her. He swallowed hard, opening his mouth, fumbling for words. She could see a brief flicker of joy on his face, and she was pleased she didn't have to be embarrassed.

“Oh Isabel. You should have told me sooner.” He said, tucking a strand of her hair behind her ear, his fingertips on her jaw. She rolled her eyes at him, smirking slightly.

“I told you I was saving myself for marriage. How could I have been clearer?” She asked with a quiet giggle, tilting her head as she looked up at him.

“I thought you were making a coy joke. Have I armed you at all? Especially that evening on the couch. I didn't know it was new.” He said sheepishly, looking concerned, his hands sliding back down to her hips. She rested her hands over his a moment before heading up his body and winding her arms around his neck.

“Michael, at first you touched me like I was made of porcelain. You didn't hurt me at all.” She said sincerely, leaning up to peck him on the lips.

“I promise I will do my best to not hurt you tonight. I have never been the first but I'll be so gentle with you.” He said, pressing a gentle kiss to her forehead, his hand on the side of her neck to keep her close.

“I know you will be. I want this with you. Not just because you're my husband, but because you're the right one to be with for it. I have this strong sense that it's supposed to be you. This is the right time.” She said, smiling up at him, truly jovial. He was serious and reticent, looking down at her warily. 

“We'll go slow. Don't tolerate anything. If you don't like something, just tell me and I'll change it. If you tell me to stop, I will stop that instant.” He said sincerely, holding his hand over his chest.

“I know. You're a good man, Michael. I feel safe with you.” She said and he finally smiled, shrugging his jacket off and hanging it on back of the door. He looked handsome yet stiff in his waistcoat, so she unbuttoned it, pulling it off, kissing him deeply. He groaned softly, his arms coming around her waist to pull her closer. His kiss was hesitant and gentle, his hands sliding up her back, to the zipper on her back.

“May I?” He asked softly, and she laughed, nodding immediately.

“You don't have to ask before you do something. You know what you're doing and I don't, so just do it. Show me.” She said brightly, and he kissed her again, slowly sliding the zipper down her back. He slid her straps off, leaning down and kissing her shoulder as he slowly pushed the fabric down. She instinctively covered herself a moment as the gown fell to the floor, and he gripped her arms. Together they moved her arms apart, and he ran his hands along the swell of her breast and down her stomach.

“I still can't quite comprehend how beautiful you are.” He said softly, leaning down and kissing across her collarbone. Her hands came up to thread through his hair, stroking the soft locks gently. The soft sound of his kisses filled the room, and his hot breath on her skin made her shudder. She reached beneath him, fumbling with his tie, eventually pulling it off him. He straightened up, walking her towards the bed, gently lowering her down onto it. He pressed his lips to her neck, his kissing and nipping making her skin heat up, her eyes closing a moment. “So beautiful.” He whispered in her ear, sliding his hand down to her breasts, gently cupping the flesh, rolling her nipples between his fingers.

“Thank you.” She breathed out, relaxing against the pillows under his touch, enjoying his hands on her. He kissed down her chest, kissing the mound of her breast, his lips coming to her nipple and wrapping around, gently sucking and nipping. She let out a soft gasp, her hand threading back through his hair. Her nerves returned slightly at the reminder that this was real, that she was truly going to join together with him. She was so unsure of herself, so unsure of being in bed with him. The casual interaction on the couch hadn't had such a heavy weight to it, it hadn't been something she truly had been waiting for growing up. This was bigger, this was a huge step for her as a person, and an enormous step for them as a couple. The more she let her nerves talk, the stranger the feeling felt. She couldn't help but squirm slightly, the still foreign sensation pleasant yet uncomfortable. 

“Are you alright?” He asked softly, looking up from her, his breath hitting her wet nipple and making her shiver.

“It's just a little weird. Getting used to every new touch.” She said, giggling nervously, relief filling her when all he did was smile up at her.

“It's alright. If you don't like something, tell me and I'll stop.” He said, and she ruffled his hair, smiling.

“You're really sweet.”

“I think you're the sweet one, my dear.” He said, chuckling quietly, lifting the back of her hand to his lips. He returned to peppering kisses along her skin, his hand on her side making her giggle again. He smirked slightly as he tickled her, making her wiggle.

“Michael!”

“How could I resist?” He asked, and she was pleased he was being playful, because it reminded her that it was her Michael, and that she was comfortable and at ease with him. It was enough to make the rest of her tension melt, melt at his smile and gentle touch, and she kissed his lips softly.

“You can continue.” She said, laying her head back on the bed, looking up at him. She bit her lip softly, gasping softly as he began to rub her through her lacy white panties. She slowly slid her legs apart, granting him easier access as he slid the scrap of fabric off her long legs. She was fully exposed and yet she didn't feel at all shy around him, the mood in the room romantic and comfortable. She sighed contently as the familiar feeling of his finger inside her returned, her eyes falling shut. She felt between her legs grow wetter from his touch, his other finger encircling her clit. She watched as he kissed his way down, stopping just at her inner thigh. She jumped back as he leaned in, looking nervous. “W-what are you doing?”

“I... I am attempting to make you feel good.” He said, his cheeks heating up, his arms lifting him up. She was suddenly so shy about him doing that, and she swallowed hard, cupping his cheek. 

“You don't have to if you don't want to.” She said softly, and he laid his hand over her own, shaking his head.

“I do want to, but only if you're comfortable with it.” He said, and she gave a hesitant nod, unsure of what to expect. “I'll stop if you dislike it.” He assured, and she nodded, more sure of herself, laying back down. The hot breath between her legs was odd and it made her shudder, her eyes closing. The first lick he delivered was odd and made her frown. The second and third made her let out a breathless noise of pleasure, her toes curling. She instantly learned the appeal of oral sex and relaxed her tense body, letting him do the work. His hands gently gripped her thighs, pushing them apart more to allow his tongue to delve deeper inside her. She heard him groan, realizing he was truly enjoying giving her this, and that made her all the more willing to enjoy.

She could feel his tongue working in patterns, and her eyes rolled back in her head, her hands coming up to grip his hair. His tongue flicked up against her clit and she gasped loudly, her hips jerking upwards. She subconsciously began to pull his hair, bringing him in closer. He didn't seem to object, making show of slipping his tongue deeper inside her, working it in what felt like a figure eight pattern. The pleasure was almost too much to handle, and she could feel a somewhat familiar feeling building up in her. 

He lifted one of her legs and lifted it over his shoulder, the shift in angle allowing his tongue to work her better. She whimpered softly as he swirled it around her clit, his eyes flicking up to look at her. She realized with some embarrassment that she was grinding against him, though she was too far gone to care. His actions became more hungry, and she knew he didn't mind one bit. He circled his tongue up and made her back arch, and then her eyes met his. He looked so sexy between her legs, and it sent chills up her spine. He swirled and flicked his tongue again, and she cried out his name and tugged his hair as her climax hit. Her hips grinned more as her thighs shook, his hands on them to keep them steady as she instinctively tried to close them. He kept licking and sucking as she rode her pleasure out, and her body went limp a moment, her eyes hooded. He kissed up her body softly, atop her once more, and he stroked her cheek as he looked down at her.

“How was that?” He asked a bit shyly, and her heart ached, because he was so insecure in his abilities. She was sure that was courtesy of his ex-wife. She ran a hand through his hair, stroking it gently, smiling widely at him.

“That was amazing. At first I didn't think I would like it, but then... Then you started and it was so wonderful.” She said with a blush, and he leaned in and kissed her deeply. Her eyebrows furrowed as she tasted herself on him, though she realized with silent relief that it wasn't at all unpleasant. He had seemed to like it enough, and that was all that mattered. 

“We don't have to continue if you don't want to. If you're tired.” He said, and she rolled her eyes, her hand cupping his cheek.

“Michael, is it you who doesn't want to? Because it goes both ways. If you don't want to do it we don't have to.” She said, soothingly stroking her fingertips down his cheek, her nails gently scratching. 

“Oh, no, you misunderstand me. I truly and deeply want to. I just... Well, I know this marriage isn't your choice. I want you to know it's not expected of you just because we're married. I don't want to pressure. Especially because it's your first time.” He said, and she smiled up at him, touched by how thoughtful he was. It was a relief to know she didn't have to do this, to know he wasn't like the other guys who pressured and pushed. Her high school boyfriend had did just that, and she was relieved Michael was better than that.

“This is my choice. My choice is to sleep with you. I've never wanted to with anyone before I met you, and I think that says enough. That's how I know it's right with you.” She said, kissing him softly on the nose, stroking his hair back.

“I would rather ask you too many times than just take. You deserve something special.”

“Then give me it.” She said, and he kissed her again, her hands gripping his shirt. She began to unbutton his shirt, and he reached for the light, making her stop, grabbing his wrist. “What are you doing? I want to see you.”

“No, you don't.” He said with a chuckle, and she rolled her eyes, pushing him up and off. She straddled his hips, watching as his eyes widened. She continued on the buttons, opening his shirt, running her hands down his lithe form. She leaned down to pepper kisses to his skin, looking up at him with a smile between kisses. She could feel his hard length against her through his pants, and she gave a curious grind downwards, pleased as he groaned. With his help, she pulled his shirt off and tossed it with the rest of their clothes.

“You're amazing. You're the most handsome man I've ever seen.” She said, glaring slightly as he scoffed.

“You're lying. I saw you once, when you were younger and dating that oaf.”

“Handsome doesn't mean you have to have bulging muscles and be ridiculously tall. Handsome is about more than just looks. But in your case, you look incredible.” She said, placing a sweet kiss on his lips, smiling as he looked stunned. His surprise only grew as she climbed off and unbuckled his belt, pulling the leather through the loops and tossing it away. She ran her hand along his bulge, watching as he exhaled sharply. She unzipped his pants, unbuttoning them and looking in his eyes. He sat up, moving her and kissing her deeply, his arms wrapping around her. She sat back down on the bed, tugging his pants down, being careful of his leg. She looked down at the flesh of his leg, seeing the mangled flesh, and he tried to shift it away. She shook her head, bending down and pressing a kiss to the injury, looking up at him.

“You never cease to amaze me.” He said softly, cupping her face and stroking her skin as she straightened. She laid back down and he came over her, kissing her deeply, smiling against her lips. He slid his boxers down slowly and she felt the hard flesh against her thigh. She felt the nerves return as she realized just how close they were, and she saw the question on his lips. She cut it off with another kiss, absolutely positive despite her nerves. She was a bit unsure if he was even going to fit, but she trusted him to proceed with caution.

“Michael, I'm ready.” She said strongly, her breath hitting his face, and he nodded slowly. He reached over, pulling open the drawer and pulling out a foil package. She watched as he tore it open with his teeth, and she curiously watched him roll it over his erection. She was suddenly glad he was so responsible, because she would have completely forgotten. She may have been ready to sleep with him, but she wasn't even close to ready to have a child.

“You need to relax a bit. You're a little tense. I don't want to hurt you.” He said gently, running his hands along her arms soothingly. She took a deep breath, exhaling and letting herself relax more. She moved her legs apart more, and he settled between them, his hand guiding himself to her entrance. She braced herself for the pain Ruby had warned her about, and he slid part in slowly. She was surprised to find it didn't quite hurt, and she adjusted under him, feeling him push in more. It was uncomfortable but not unpleasant, and she furrowed her eyebrows as he pressed in more. 

“That doesn't really hurt.” She murmured, and he stroked her cheek, halting his motions. 

“Because I made sure you were ready. I told you I wouldn't hurt you.” He said softly, kissing her on the forehead. He peppered kisses along her face, and she was glad he was still, because it gave her time to get used to the feeling of him inside her. It was rather enjoyable. She felt full, as if she was complete, as if he belonged there. She shifted her hips slightly, surprised to hear him let out a soft groan, his eyes on her. They laid still for a few more minutes, and she felt the discomfort fade. She pushed her hips again, closing her eyes at the rush of pleasure.

“You can move. I'm good.” She said softly, and he smiled at her, kissing her softly on the lips. He pulled out, gently pushing back in, and she let out a tiny gasp, her arms coming up to wrap around his neck. One hand threaded through his hair, stroking his hair gently as he began to move within her. Her mouth hung open slightly, the pleasure filling her. Their bodies were so close, and his weight was heavy on her, and she relished the feeling of him on her. He let out a shuddered breath against her cheek, and he leaned his forehead on her own. The moment was so tender and romantic and she knew she'd remember it for the rest of her life.

Each time he sheathed himself inside her, she nearly lost herself in the feeling of being whole. Though they were not truly in love, their bodies certainly were, because they were making love. He moved atop her in a slow and steady rhythm, his eyes on her own. The discomfort and awkward edge was gone, replaced with belonging and desire, and she couldn't ask for more. He was giving her the night some girls could only dream of, and he was so attuned to her pleasure, so faithful and happy to cause it.

“Michael, a little faster.” She said, the words coming out automatically. She cried out as his thrusts came faster, his pace never losing the tender edge despite picking up. 

“You feel so incredible.” He murmured into her ear, and his accent was thick, thicker than it was in the mornings, and it did wicked things to her. He pressed kisses along her jaw and neck, his lips seeming to land anywhere they could. She curiously wrapped her legs around his waist, gasping out as he began to hit at a new angle, one that made her moan softly into his ear. His hand was behind her head gently, pushing her up against his forehead, their noses touching. 

She jumped slightly as she felt him stroking slow circles on her clit, his hand stuck between their sweaty and close bodies. She closed her eyes to fully enjoy the pleasure the touch gave her, her nails pressing into his back. He hissed out at the action, rolling his hips into her a bit faster. She could feel that odd and incredible feeling building up, spurred by his thoughtful caresses. She opened her eyes to see him, seeing his face twisted in concentration, his lip between his teeth. She reached up and stroked his cheek gently, pulling him down for a slow kiss. His tongue slipped past her lips and rubbed against her own, and she swallowed one of his moans, holding him close by his hair. 

He pressed her clit more firmly, and she whimpered softly, and then pleasure rushed in, hitting her hard. She moaned his name out as she climaxed around him, tightening her grip on his hair as she gasped. Her orgasm wasn't quite as powerful as the last one, though it was still intense and earth shattering. She gripped him tightly, crying out his name softly as the tiny aftershocks hit. She held onto him as he continued to thrust, eventually gasping.

“I-I'm sorry, I can't hold back.” He murmured against her neck, a choked moan escaping him. Her eyes widened as she felt a throb within her. He cried out her name, his heavy accent in her ear, making her shiver. She ran her hands through his hair hair gently, holding his head against her shoulder as his body tensed, his thrusts sporadic. She winced only slightly as he went a bit too hard, her newfound soreness kicking in. “I'm sorry.” He whispered again, and she tilted her head, entirely unsure why he was apologizing. 

“Why are you saying sorry?” She asked softly, pulling his face up and holding it between her hands.

“Because it was supposed to be special and I didn't even please you. I was selfish.” He said in distress, and she shook her head, kissing his forehead.

“Yes you did.” She said, blushing slightly, looking away. “I had an orgasm. Two, actually, throughout the night.” She added shyly, and he looked at her in surprise.

“You weren't faking it?” He asked in genuine shock, and she instantly knew his ex-wife was to blame. She had clearly made him very insecure when it came to sex, and she suddenly felt very bad for him.

“No! Of course not! I promise, I will never do that. It was wonderful. And even if I hadn't, it would have been special because you made it special. Michael, it was perfect. Thank you so much.” She said sincerely, snuggling up to his chest and nuzzling him. She shifted slightly, trying to ignore the stinging between her legs, moving her legs in an attempt to get comfortable. She shyly looked away as he discarded the condom, staring up at the ceiling.

“I'm truly happy that you had a good time.” He said softly, pulling her closer, moving and wiggling the blankets out from beneath them, covering her up. She relished in the warmth, scooting closer and nuzzling up to him. 

“I can't believe we're actually married.” She said, tilting her head up, clinging to him. She couldn't explain it, but she had an overwhelming urge to be close to him, to feel him. She supposed it came with the territory of making love.

“Nor can I.” He said, pressing a lingering kiss to her forehead. “I'm quite lucky to have a perfect wife.”

“I'm not perfect.” She murmured, tracing slowly circles across his chest, her eyes hooded.

“Maybe not in your eyes, or in anyone else's. But in my eyes, you are.” He said with a shrug, and she could feel tears prick her eyes. She wasn't sure why it made her so emotional, but the day itself had been a typhoon of emotions. Perhaps she wasn't totally grounded at the moment.

“Thank you.” She said, her cheek against his chest, her hand fanning out to rest along his stomach.

“No, thank you. For going along with this. Had you said no, I would have went a different route.” He admitted, and she sighed slightly. Her way out had been there all along. She had just been too cowardly to take it. Or perhaps she had been brave enough to take the set route. She wasn't entirely sure which she fell under.

“What would you have picked? If not marriage.”

“I'm not sure. I likely would have said you had to work in my shop.” He said with a small shrug, running his hand down her arm. She turned to look up at him, instantly filled with regret. That would have been perfect. They could have continued to date, continued to get to know each other. Love would have flourished spending so much time together, and she could have laughed and smiled in his shop, the place she was beginning to love. While it was true it would in their situation, it would have been a lot less stressful and put less of a strain on her, on them. 

“Oh. I see.” She said, trying to keep her voice from sounding too depressed. Her sadness faded slightly as he kissed her temple, and it faded completely as he pressed several in succession.

“None of that matters. What matters is we're together now.” He said quietly, and she have a small, half-hearted smile.

“I'm really tired. You broke me.” She said with a small smile, and he chuckled, pulling the blankets over her more.

“Then get some sleep. Remember, neither of us have work tomorrow, so sleep however late you'd like. It's been a long day.”

“Goodnight Michael. Thank you for a wonderful night.” She said, stifling a yawn before kissing his cheek. She fell asleep quickly, his warm body protecting her from the chill, his strong arms protecting her from any nightmares.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> *runs and hides.*


	20. Married Bliss

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hey everyone! I want to start by thanking you all for the response. I'm glad you liked the smut ;) I assure you, there is more where that came from. From here on, those two are going to be... Active. I also wanted to let you know that I will be exploring Michael's alcoholism more. I have done quite a bit of research on it, and will be handling it sensitively, as well as realistically. It won't be fixed in a day as that isn't how it works. But they will work on it together, so fear not! I also wanted to let you know I have started a new fic. It's called The Key. It's Rumbelle, of course, and it take place in the Enchanted Forest. I would love if you checked it out! I've rambled enough, so here it is, chapter 20!

Isabel awoke to an empty bed, a chill running through her body despite the warm blankets that were carefully tucked around her. She reached a hand out for her husband, opening her eyes to find he was nowhere to be found. She slowly sat up, holding the sheets over her bare chest, a filling of fear creeping up in her head. She felt this strange urge to be closer to him, and she knew it was courtesy of their night of passion. It had been special, he had made her feel loved even if he didn't love her. For all she knew, he did already love her, a thought that was both frightening and invigorating. The feeling of such closeness had changed her, and she wanted to be grow with Michael even more now. Physical closeness had been formed, and he would always be important now. 

Her life was so different already, and it had only been one day. To think that she was a wife now was odd, and it left an odd taste in her mouth as she quietly murmured it to herself. Most girls looked forward to marriage growing up, but she had never been one of them. She had always been odd, preferring to read about romance rather than actually live it out. Now the first romance that had mattered to her had resulted in marriage, something so different from anything she had experienced before. 

When she thought about it, she really hadn't experienced much of anything. Life had been mundane and lacking anything exciting. Before Michael, everything could be described as flat and secure, never truly happy or truly sad. Michael made her feel extreme emotions. Sometimes she was the happiest girl in the world, floating and carefree. Sometimes, her heart was crushed into dust by him and his unpredictable moods and the high walls guarding his own heart. Marriage may not have been her first choice, but it had certainly made her life more interesting. She had grown up craving adventure. She had wanted nothing more than to see the world. Marriage hadn't really fit in with those desires. But now, she was wondering if Michael was the adventure she had been meant to have. 

She was interrupted from her musings by the scent of food wafting towards her, and Michael emerged from the hallway. He was dressed in a full suit already. He had his cane in one hand and was miraculously balancing a tray in the other, slowly making his way over to her. She sat up slightly, looking up at him curiously. He brought it over to her, carefully setting it down across her lap. Her heart swelled. He had prepared her breakfast in bed.

“Hey.” He said softly, smiling down at her, looking shy once again. ”I thought you might be hungry.” He explained, and she realized then that she was rather hungry, and she laid her hand over his.

“Thank you very much. This is really nice.” She said, and he shifted slightly. She took hold of his tie, using it to pull him down. She pressed a soft kiss to his cheek, before patting the bed beside her. “Won't you join me? There's plenty for us both.” She said, watching surprise flit across his face.

“I would like that.” He said with a nod, climbing back into bed and sitting beside her, his hand coming up to rest over her leg. Being close to him made her feel much better, her sudden neediness satiated. She sheepishly pulled the sheets up over her more, tucking them around her body. She still felt shy being so exposed to him, even though he had seen and touched it all. She cut a piece of the waffle, guiding the fork to his mouth for him, watching his eyebrows lift as he took the mouthful.

Breakfast was surprisingly blissful for something she did every day. There was something electrifying about sharing the plate of food with him, something tender. In addition to sharing the fork and food, they shared chaste kisses and soft, innocent touches. He touched her like he hadn't become acquainted with every inch of her, eyes full of childlike wonder and unabashed adoration. Breakfast ended up on the nightstand and she ended up pressed tightly against him, their lips locked. She fought off her concerns about morning and breakfast breath, noticing he didn't seem too put off. He kissed her hungrily, his hands sliding along her sides. Despite all his passion, it was he who ended the kiss, leaning his forehead against her own.

“Are you feeling alright after last night?” He asked quietly, and she blushed, because last night meant so much now.

“I... I'm a little sore.” She admitted, and he winced, kissing her on the forehead.

“I'm quite sorry.”

“I'm told that's normal.” She reassured, leaning on his chest, toying with his pocket square, the purple scrap of fabric silky beneath her hand.

“Even so. I'll quash my urges to undress and stay in bed with you all day.” He said, and her blush deepened, her arms locking around his waist.

“Don't leave yet. You can keep your clothes on.” She said, and he chuckled, his arms coming around her. 

“It's the day after our wedding. I'm not going anywhere. I need time with my wife.” He said, holding her bare body closer, his hands sliding along her back. “You seem...”

“Clingy?” She supplied, and he shook his head, resting his chin atop her head.

“Clingy has negative connotations. I would go with affectionate. It's nothing bad.” He promised, and she sighed in relief, because she felt so abnormal. She always enjoyed his company, but currently she felt as if being without him would ache.

“I just... After last night, I just feel like I don't want to be apart.” She admitted, pulling her head back to look up at him, insecurity clouding her. “I sound crazy.”

“That's normal, sweetheart. You don't sound crazy at all.” He said, chuckling quietly, running his large hand across her cheek.

“Maybe more silly.” She said, shrugging slightly as she looked down. He shook his head quickly, tilting her chin up.

“Making love is a bonding experience, especially because it was your first time. It was special to me, too. You don't sound silly because you're feeling the way you're supposed to. I feel it too. I assure you, it's completely alright.” He finished his reassurance with a soft kiss, and she couldn't help but smile. She was just waiting for him to say something to mess everything up like he always did, but for now she was content to enjoy the moment and not worry about the future mess. 

“You're right. I guess it's just odd to feel this way. It's really new. Feeling... Connected to someone like this.” She said, leaning into his chest more.

“It's a good feeling on you. You're practically glowing.” He pointed out, running his hand through her curls. She said nothing, content to just relax against him. “Oh, I've been meaning to bring something up.” He said, and she tensed up. This was it. This was when he was going to completely shatter their special moment. She swallowed hard, lifting her head slightly.

“And what is that?” She asked flatly. She watched him pull away, leaning over to the bedside table. She heard the drawer slide open, and he pulled a small envelope out. She watched curiously, watching him tip a golden card out. He took her hand and placed it around the plastic. She examined it, seeing it read Isabel Gold on it. It was strange to see that name on it, though she supposed she had to get used to it. “Why are you giving me this?”

“It's a card for my account. So you can purchase things.” He joked, and she couldn't help but giggle, looking at him in mock exasperation.

“I know what debit cards are for, I'm just wondering why you're giving it to me. You don't have to.” She said, feeling him take her hand in his own.

“Marrying me isn't all bad. If there's one thing I can do, it's ensure you can have whatever you want or need.”

“Oh Michael.” She shook her head slightly, squeezing his hand. “Out of all the things I like about you, your wealth isn't even in the top twenty. It doesn't mean anything to me.”

“But it means something to me. I want to share with you. Truly, my account is too large for me. I couldn't spend it all in many lifetimes. I need a little help.” He said, and she briefly wondered just how much money he he had. Considering he was at times engaged in fairly suspicious matters, she was certain it was a lot. The rent itself was surely a substantial number. He likely wasn't lying to make her feel better about it, but she still felt strange. She was sure the town was gossiping, saying she had married him for his amass of wealth. Taking the card felt like confirming something that wasn’t even true to begin with.

“I don't know. It makes me feel like I'm taking advantage of you. ”

“You're not. Humor me. Let a husband provide for his wife a bit. If you want a new anything, just buy it. Please.” He looked in her eyes, his own pleading. This mattered to him for an unknown reason, and she didn't want to offend him.

“I could always have more dresses.” She hesitated, but his smile made her more willing, his accompanying nod reassuring.

“Yes. Yes, please, go dress shopping.” He kissed her forehead, pulling her into his warm chest.

“I will.” She said softly, running her hand along his tie, stroking the silk. She leaned up and kissed him, a kiss that brought them flush together, lips working desperately against each other. She ended up in his lap, her arms wound around his neck. She felt his hand creep along her leg, before he pulled away, shaking his head.

“We just went over this. You're not well.”

“I'm sure we still could. As long as you're careful.” She watched him look at her in mild surprise, his hands fidgeting. She could feel physical evidence of his arousal. 

“Are you really so eager to be with me like that? I didn't think you would even consent to once. I was expecting we'd never touch.” He looked down slightly, his hands threading through her own.

“I'm just full of surprises.” She said, pressing a kiss to his forehead, watching him look at her in amusement. She felt a strange longing, a longing to feel his comfortable weight on her. She had felt so secure beneath his body, as if nothing could ever hurt her.

“It would be irresponsible of me to yield. Tomorrow, we can go to your heart's content.” He said, and she nodded with a pout, leaning on his chest.

“You're so considerate. Most men would have just went for it, or so I'm told.” She shifted her head so it laid over his heart, the steady beat pleasant to listen to. She was happy to find it wasn't racing like usual. He was comfortable with her, here in their bed. The one place in his house that was theirs.

“You're told correctly. I'm assuming Miss Lucas?” She nodded, and he chuckled. “I'm sure she's seeing men who are quite different than me.” She giggled softly, nodding. He just smirked, saying nothing more for awhile. They laid together, enjoying their peace, before she shifted.

“I'm going to get dressed. We can't stay in bed all day.” 

“Well, we could. But not today.” He stood from the bed, and she was relieved that he was giving her privacy, because she still wasn't ready to dress in front of him. “I'll be downstairs.” He said, standing and leaving, closing the door behind him. She showered and went through her routine, wearing her hair down in loose curls. She wore a simple blouse with an even simpler skirt, feeling comfortable enough with Michael to not care about her appearance. She made her way downstairs, sighing audibly as she saw him. It wasn't even noon, and yet he was seated with a glass of scotch. He smiled as he saw her, gesturing for her to join him.

“You look very beautiful.” His eyes roamed her as she approached, lingering on her face. She sat down beside him, leaning in as he wrapped his arm around her.

“Thank you.” She kissed his cheek, eyeing the glass another moment, trying to figure her words out. “It's... It's a bit early for scotch, wouldn't you say?” She asked softly, touching the glass he held in his hand. She made sure to look as adorable as possible, pressing close to him. 

“It's never too early for scotch.” He said defensively, taking a sip out of it, eyeing her suspiciously.

“Why do you drink so much?” She asked gently, running her hand along his arm gently. He sighed softly, looking down at his lap.

“Well, Isabel, you're married to a man who lives in constant pain.” His voice was melancholy, bringing the glass to his lips and taking another slow sip.

“But there are other ways to deal with pain.” She was gentle, running a hand along his chest, keeping close to him.

“Yes. But this is my way.”

“And how's it work for you?” She asked, looking up at him sternly. He scoffed, looking away from her, focusing on the wall.

“It doesn't matter now. I've been doing this for years. No sense in stopping now.” He said, leaning forward to top his glass off.

“I want you to stop. It's not good for you. I'm worried about you.” She said, looking up at him desperately.

“I can't.” He whispered, hanging his head slightly.

“Will you try? I'll help you. At least start by cutting down.” She urged, sighing as he took another sip.

“I don't know. I won't make any promises. But I'll make an effort. If it will make you happier.” He said, and she nodded, kissing him, ignoring the bitter taste of his breath. The doorbell rang then, and he sighed, standing up from the couch, setting his glass down. She followed him curiously. He made his way over to the door, pulling it open, revealing two men who appeared to be in their mid twenties. “Can I help you?”

“We're here about Keith. He wants to make a deal with you.” The taller one said, keeping his back straight despite the fear she could see in his eyes.

“Are the injuries he has not enough?” He asked dangerously, and she laid a hand on his back, gently stroking.

“It's about the injuries. He's considering pressing charges.” He said, and Michael sighed, seeming more disinterested than anything.

“As he should.”

“Michael!” Isabel said quickly, grabbing his arm and stepping up beside him. “What deal does he want to make?”

“Either he presses charges, or you pay him outright.” The other man said, and Michael chuckled, looking between them both mildly.

“You tell your little friend he does not want to go up against me. I do not like being threatened, and I do not like my wife being harassed. You tell him that if he wants a fight, I'll give him one. I suggest you reconsider your loyalty, unless you want your rent doubled. And I'm fully within my rights to do so, according to my rental agreement.” He said, and both men swallowed hard, nodding.

“Sorry, Mr. Gold. We were just delivering the message because Keith is still in the hospital. We don't agree with it.” He said quickly, and Michael nodded, shrugging.

“Quite frankly, I don't give a damn. Tell him I advise against pressing charges. You'll need a good lawyer to put a man like me away. And do you know who the best lawyer around is? Me.” He wore a smirk, and Isabel knew that no matter what Keith did, he would be no match for the infamous Mr. Gold. He would beat him with his superior wit, and lack of fear at using less than legal methods.

“We'll warn him, sir. We're sorry.” One said quickly, and Michael laughed, cruelly.

“You're only sorry because it suits you. Get off my porch, you're ruining a very special day.” He said, and they turned quickly, bumping into each other as they left. He closed and locked the door, turning back to face her. She folded her arms sternly, her hip popped as she stood.

“You just had to attack him. You couldn't have just talked to him. You're Mr. Gold, it would have been enough.” She said, letting out a sad sigh, making her way over to the couch, sinking down on it. He followed, sitting closely beside her, his hand resting in her knee.

“Don't worry, my darling wife. I can get out of this no problem.”

“What if you go go jail? What am I supposed to do then?” She asked, and his face softened, his arms wrapping around her. He ran his hands along her arms soothingly, holding her gently. She felt a soft kiss get pressed to her head, and she tilted into his chest more.

“Then I'll demand conjugal visits.” She hit his arm, scowling at him as she said his name in scolding. “A quip, sweetheart! I won't go to jail.” He said, and he sounded so sure of himself, but she wasn't quite as confident.

“Next time you protect me, don't go so far. Ruby said he's really badly hurt.” She said, and though what he had done was despicable and horrid, she couldn't help but feel a sting of sympathy.

“If it hadn't been you, it would have been another girl. I've done everyone a favor.” He said, and she didn't argue, just laid on his chest and breathed him in. Eventually, they found themselves watching movies, and it was relaxing. She remained silent about his steady drinking, unsure of what she could even say to make him stop. He ran his hands along the bruises on her arms, lifting her hand and pressing gentle kisses along the blued skin. He ran his thumb along the skin as he held her hand, a scowl in place. “How could he?” He murmured, and her husband pressed a soft kiss to her temple, tugging her closer.

“He's horrible. He's not like you. He doesn't respect me.” She said, and he nodded, running his hand along her skin.

“I'll make this whole town respect you. You deserve it.” He said, sighing into her hair, leaning against her more, slurring slightly. 

“Michael, you're drunk.” She said softly, and he looked down, his eyes sad.

“Are you mad?”

“I just want you to say you'll try to stop. That if I try to help you, you'll be receptive.” She said, and he was silent a moment. Then he nodded.

“Help me.” He whispered, and she nodded, kissing him on the forehead as he had done to her.

“You better remember this conversation come morning.” She said sternly, and he grinned lazily, leaning his head on her shoulder.

“I never forget anything we talk about.” He promised, and she looked down at him, smiling slightly. He reached for his glass and she reached for his hand, holding it down.

“That's enough.” She said, her voice firm, and she expected a fight. He just pouted, nodding as he laid more of his weight on her.

“You're my wife. So I'll listen to you. You must be right anyways. You usually are.” He said softly, closing his eyes. She sighed slightly, stroking her hand through his hair gently. 

“Michael, you should get up. We can go up to bed.” She said, watching a smirk appear on his face.

“Bed...”

“No. To sleep.” She said, and he nodded in understanding, and she was just thankful he was such a subdued drunk. She assumed it was because he was so used to being intoxicated. She stood up from the sofa, taking his hand and helping him up. She placed his cane in his hand, letting him lean on her as well. She brought him upstairs, sitting him down on the bed. She removed his tie and slowly unbuttoned his shirt. His belt and pants were next, his socks following. She turned to get him his pajamas, but she saw he was already face down. She made her way over to him, moving him so he was on his side, the pillow keeping his head up in case he become ill. She stroked his hair back gently, covering him up. 

She made her way downstairs, cleaning up the living room and heading to the liquor cabinet. He had over a dozen bottles of expensive scotch, and she vaguely wondered what would happen if she hid them. She wanted to give him the chance to quit on his own, so she resisted the urge to to do so. She made herself a cup of tea, sitting on the couch and relaxing for awhile, taking solace in the fact that Michael was sleeping safely. After awhile she went back to the bedroom, hearing he was snoring softly, his mouth hanging own. She smiled to herself, changing into her nightgown and climbing in. She pressed up behind him, his back to her chest, her arm draped loosely over his chest. She kissed him softly on the neck before nuzzling into her pillow. Their first day as a married couple hadn't been ideal and had involved far too much alcohol. But it hadn't been terrible either. If anything, she was happy that they were growing closer. Everyday was one step closer to love. She just hoped he didn't take any backwards.


	21. Proper Newlyweds

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Before I begin this chapter, I would like to briefly inform you of something. This was inspired by a few questions I received in regards to why Gold would drink if he has her. Now, I have no idea how much any of you know about alcoholism, but for this story and a roleplay I do, I have done quite a bit of research into it. For those of you who do not know, alcoholism is a disease. Gold is not choosing to drink at this point, he is addicted to the substance. He IS happy with her, and he does truly have strong feelings for her. The drinking has nothing to do with her. No matter how happy she makes him, he is still an addict. His body is addicted to the substance. IF (when) he stops, there are very serious side effects to the detox process. Someone who quits drinking cold turkey will get ill, have mood swings, anxiety, possibly hallucinations. It is even possible to die from it. I hope this answers any concerns about Gold not being happy with her. If anyone has any more questions about it, I am more than happy to answer, so don't be shy. You can ask in the comments here, or send me a message on tumblr- thedarkonesdearie. Now that I took care of that, here's chapter 21!

They'd been married for exactly one week, and he hadn't touched her intimately since their wedding night. Every night was virtually the same. He'd pick her up at work, they'd eat dinner together, and then relax on the couch, reading or watching a film. She'd work up the courage to take him to bed, and he'd break the liquor out and drown her bravery. She didn't want to be with him, not when he wasn't himself due to the alcohol. It made her feel wrong, even if he was still thinking coherently, so she always went to bed disappointed. She was curious and desperate to feel close to him, and the arm around her each night wasn't enough. The night they had slept together had changed her, and she wanted to feel that again. They were physically apart, and it ached. 

At about the same time as usual, he stood from beside her, making his way to the liquor cabinet. She cleared her throat and stood, following him sheepishly. He turned around as he reached it, looking down at her in confusion.

“What is it, dearest?” He asked softly, smiling at her. It hurt her their lack of intimacy didn't seem to bother him at all. She was almost certain newlyweds were supposed to never leave their bed. He didn't seem to have any interest in her, and it was putting a strain on her. She leaned her body up against the liquor cabinet, watching his eyes flash.

“Do you have to drink tonight?” She asked, and he scoffed, straightening up. He breathed out slowly, the sound turning to a sigh.

“Why does it matter?” He asked, leaning his hip on the counter and gazing down at her, his expression blank. 

“Because I like you more sober. You're different when you drink. I want a night with my husband Michael.” She said sadly, watching his face soften.

“We've spent every night together this past week. I've been with you the whole time,” he said gently, and she shook her head in protest.

“It's not you when you're drunk. You've been drunk every night we've been together.” She sighed, folding her arms and looking down, hugging herself. He gently took her arms, pulling her closer. She begrudgingly let him move her, and he tilted her chin up so she looked into his eyes. 

“I suppose I've become used to it. I didn't anticipate it bothering you so much. I don't wish to upset you.” He said, and he sounded honest, so she loosened her arms, not looking away from him. 

“I'm trying to be understanding. You said you would make an effort, but you’re not. You told me to help you, and I want to, you just don't seem to want it. You said you wouldn’t forget that conversation.”

“I haven’t forgotten.”

“Look, I read a little about alcoholism, and-”

“I am not an alcoholic!” He snapped, backing away from her, his eyebrows knit. His eyes were ablaze with anger, his teeth bared. She tilted her head to the side, sighing slightly. She wasn't afraid of him in the slightest, so she stood directly in front of him, looking up at him.

“Why won't you just admit it? There's nothing wrong with admitting. If you admit it, I can help you.” She smiled, gently laying her hand on his cheek, stroking gently. He took a few breaths, looking down at the floor. He swallowed hard, nodding once. He was quiet for a few minutes, before he finally spoke, looking vulnerable. 

“Perhaps I am an alcoholic.” He whispered softly, hanging his head back and and frowning deeply. She pulled him forward and hugged him tightly, running a hand through his hair. His arms hung by his side, his face against her shoulder. She smiled slightly, kissing him on the hair and stroking his back. He slowly pulled away, pulling out of her grip completely.

“Michael, admitting it is the first step to getting better.” She said reassuringly, watching him give a slight nod. “I just want to be properly married... You haven't even touched me in favor of your drinks. You've wanted it more than me.” She said, averting her gaze and looking down at the ground, her cheeks tinted pink.

“No, I haven't. I just didn't want to startle you. I wanted to give you time. I wanted you to initiate it. I assumed you weren't interested in more, so I said nothing.” He said softly, and she sighed, rolling her eyes slightly.

“You're the first man I've ever been with. I hardly know anything, let alone how I'm supposed to initiate it.” She said, and he turned away, putting the bottle and glass away.

“I'm not a very good teacher, am I?” He asked, sighing quietly, rubbing his temple. 

“I just don't understand. The day after our wedding, I made it quite clear that I wanted you. You even denied me. And you promised me the following day.” She sounded petulant and annoying, but it didn't stop her from frowning deeply. 

“I simply thought your feelings were clouded by how you felt after we were together. It's easier to avoid it rather than offend you.”

“You offended me by not touching me. You make me feel unwanted.” Her voice was but a whisper, tears clouding her eyes as the emotions finally sank in. This man had slept with her only not want her again. She had been uninteresting, perhaps she had failed to please him properly. It hurt even more because he was her husband, and husbands were supposed to want their wives, even insatiably at times. 

“Oh, sweetheart, no, no.” He shook his head, pulling her into his strong chest, his arms holding her securely. “I want you so badly. Constantly. I just didn't want you to think that was all I wanted. I didn't marry you for your body.”

“Then why did you? What else do I have to offer that's so good you had to marry it? Or that was supposed to be so good...”

“Belle, please... I married you because I'm falling in love with you, and I wanted you by my side.” He said, his voice shaking slightly, and she looked up at him, her mouth hanging open. It wasn't just the way he said her nickname he seemed to favor, it was the way he was looking at her. “You are wanted. I simply didn't want to seem like a lecherous old bastard. I wanted you to feel comfortable.”

He was falling in love with her. She had known it all along, but hearing it was an entirely different matter. It was enough to being a small smile to her face, and she leaned her head on his chest, her hands resting on his stomach. She wanted to ease his fears and insecurities, so perhaps it was time she was truthful with him.

“Michael, at first I was unhappy about marrying you. At first I didn't want it one bit.” She said, glancing up at his face, watching him flinch. “I... I changed my mind. I am, too.”

“You're what?”

“Falling in love with you.” She said, and he looked down at her in surprise, tightening his arms.

“All week, I've been waiting for you to mention divorce. We have no contract. You're free to leave whenever you want.” She sighed, leaning her head on his chest again, shaking it.

“I obviously don't want to. I thought about it, but I want to let myself fall in love. When things are good between us, it's great. I think if we work together we can have it all.” She gripped the fabric of his shirt, holding him tightly, afraid to let go.

“I'll try. I'll do my best not to mess any more up. I will never make you feel unwanted again.” He said, his voice quiet and solemn. He took her cheeks between his hands and pulled her head back, leaning in and kissing her lips softly. His kiss turned more fierce, and he pressed her against the counter, moving to the side of her neck. She gasped out softly, her eyes snapping shut as she gripped at him helplessly. He nibbled the skin gently, his hands around her hips, pressing her to him. He made a small noise as he ground his hips into her, and she felt as though she was burning. His hand came up to massage her breast through the fabric of her blouse, and she moaned softly, her head hanging back. She briefly wondered if he would take her against the counter, but she felt him pulling her, and she followed willingly, her eyes opening. He led her to their bedroom, beginning to undress her. She shyly held her shirt together, causing him to arch a brow.

“You needn't be shy, love. You're beautiful.” He said, and she realized how silly she was being, so she pulled her shirt off, looking up at him. He leaned down and kissed her again, sliding her skirt down and off while maintaining contact. She reached up to loosen his tie, her hands slowly unbuttoning his shirt. She pulled away to focus on pulling both off, smiling into another kiss. She unclasped her bra, unzipping his pants immediately after. She tugged them down, helping support him as he stepped out, his bad leg wobbling beneath him. He pushed her down on the bed, covering her body with his as his hand slipped inside her panties, delving inside her folds and beginning to gently pump. She gasped out softly, his touch melting her pent up frustration away. 

“Yes, that's it Michael. More.” She whispered, barely recognizing her own voice, her normal tone cloaked in arousal. Her hips jerked up as he pressed down on her clit, her eyes rolling back in her head. His lips were on her neck again, and she laid back, simply enjoying his touches. She pulled his boxers down after a moment, exposing his hard manhood, then she removed her own panties. He sat up against the headboard, and she allowed him to pull her so she straddled his lap. He reached into the nightstand to pull out a foil package, and she took it from him, carefully opening it. She rolled it in place, mimicking as she had seen. “Is this right?” She asked, looking up to see his head was hanging back against the headboard. He gave a stiff nod, kissing her messily.

“Just right.” He said, and she gasped out as he began to rub his tip along her folds. She braced her hands on his shoulders, and he lifted her hips, lowering her onto his cock. She gasped out as he filled her, leaning her head on his shoulder, and she could have sobbed, because she had sincerely craved this. He held her hips tightly, slowly beginning to move her. She could already feel herself building up, courtesy of his touches, and she leaned her forehead on his own. She tentatively began to move her hips, the motion uneven and awkward at first. After a moment she found her pace, and he groaned out, his arms mashing her closer. 

She decided she rather liked being in his lap, because his hand slid around and began to rub her clit in delicious circles. It didn't take long before she collapsed on his chest, gasping his name as her hips moved desperately, her orgasm sharp and powerful. He shuddered beneath her and let out a groan, delivering a hard thrust and then freezing as he was sheathed deep within her. He panted as he leaned back on the headboard, his chest rising and falling quickly. She nuzzled into his neck, smiling as she basked in the aftermath of her orgasm.

“Promise me you'll never make me go a whole week without that again.” She said softly, and he chuckled, the sound making his chest rumble.

“I never knew you'd be so insatiable, Isabel French.” 

“Gold.” She immediately corrected, lifting her head to look at his face. She watched surprise take over his features, only to be replaced by a smug smirk. She was equally surprised, but she had repeated the name so many times in her head that it only made sense to think it her’s.

“Isabel Gold. I much prefer it.” He said, ghosting his hand along her back, pressing a kiss to her head. He gently lifted her off, laying her down as he discarded his rubber, immediately pulling her into his arms. She sank into them, the security washing over her.

“Will you tell me something?” She asked softly, tracing lazy circles along his chest, looking up at him. He nodded after a brief lapse.

“And what do you want to know, darling wife?” He tilted his head to the side, looking down at her, the cold metal of his ring against her back, sending chills along her spine.

“Anything. Tell me something I don't know about you.” She said, and he gaped slightly, looking deep in thought.

“Ah... I'm not sure what to share.”

“Anything. Even if it's your favorite color.” She said, stroking his hair behind his ear, smiling encouraging.

“Well, it's gold...”

“Seriously?” She asked, and he nodded sheepishly, and she rolled her eyes. “Tell me something else. Something meaningful.” She continued to stroke his hair, watching as he relaxed back more, his eyes hooded.

“My father abandoned me when I was a boy.” She swallowed hard, watching his jaw tense, the relaxation fading from his face. “My apologies... Perhaps that was a bit heavy for pillow talk...”

“Well... I suppose my father abandoned me too.” She spoke softly, the wound still fresh, and he stroked her hair back gently as she had to him, smiling sympathetically.

“I believe you've a chance to get him back.”

“I wouldn't reconcile with him unless he accepted my wishes and decisions.” She said, and he pulled her back down on his chest, stroking her back gently.

“You're smart. You'll save yourself pain by doing that.” His accent was gradually growing thicker, a wonderful treat that came about whenever he was tired or aroused.

“I'll leave fixing things up to him. Right now I have you to focus on.” She said, sinking down into his chest more, her eyes drifting shut.

“I'm most honored to have your attention.” He said, pressing a lazy, slow kiss to her head, pulling the covers up over them. He let out a content breath, moving to wrap his arms around her tighter. 

“Thank you for not drinking tonight. And for being with me.”

“I just want you to be happy with me. If not drinking makes you happy, I'll choose you over it.” He said, twirling a strand of her hair around his finger, letting a yawn out. She pressed a kiss to his chest, three words she wanted to say but didn't quite mean on the tip of her tongue. She wasn't ready for that, especially not without an admission from him. For now, she was content to learn these bits of information about him, expanding the mosaic that was Michael Gold even more. She kissed over his heart again, nuzzling her head into him, feeling herself drifting off. Her last conscious thought was one of hope, for her future that didn't look so bleak anymore.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you for reading, and for all the kudos. I really appreciate them and it is great incentive to write. Thank you to everyone who comments, it's so wonderful to see you guys who comment every update. It warms my heart!


	22. A Battle Lost

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hello everyone! I am so sorry for taking a bit to update, I haven't been writing a ton lately, and I don't like to update unless I've written a chapter or two ahead. I was shocked and excited to see this story is very nearly at 200 kudos! I NEVER expected to even pass 50, so this is truly amazing. Thank you for all the kudos and comments, and if you're reading and forgot to kudos, please help me hit 200 so I can weep tears of joy!

Isabel was examining her nails, sitting back in her desk chair. There were no appointments today and yet the doctor wanted her to stay, just in case there was an emergency. She had already decided she would go over to the pawn shop to visit Michael, and she would likely stay with him for the remainder of the day. She was beginning to like that musty old shop and all it's stories and trinkets. And really, she was beginning to want more time with Michael. She was debating sending a phone call his way, but she wanted to surprise him instead, so she quashed the urge to hear his voice.

The door opened roughly, and she looked up, gasping Keith hobbled in. He had a neck brace on, and walked with a limp, one arm in a sling. His nose was crooked and his eye still bruised. That phone call was sounding better and better, but she didn't want Michael to get hurt. Keith had a nasty look on his face, and he clearly meant trouble. 

“You need to go right now.” She said sternly, and he chuckled darkly, crossing his arms, wincing in pain. He chose to just stand with his arms by his side, leaning down as best he could.

“Guess what your husband did?” He spat out, one hand coming up to grip the counter. She resisted the urge to smack his grimy paw off her clean counter, looking up at him boldly.

“I don't have to guess. It's clear as day.” She said sarcastically, gesturing to his battered body. 

“That's not what I meant. He raised my rent by $500! I could already barely afford it. It's going to be impossible now!” He said, and she gasped slightly, though she truly wasn't surprised. “It's all your fault. You should have told me he was your fiancé, and I would have backed off.”

“A woman's fiancé shouldn't be the only thing keeping her from harassment. You should have listened, but instead you humiliated me because you were humiliated.” She said, not letting herself feel even a sting of sympathy for the man. Michael shouldn't have resorted to violence, that was true. But this seemed more like him, so she didn't necessarily disapprove of it.

“I bought you drinks. I deserved-”

“Nothing. You don't deserve anything. Get out.” She said, pointing to the door. He didn't budge.

“If he doesn't lower the rent, I'm pressing charges. And there are dozens of witnesses. He'll go to jail.” He said, and his words brought her a rush of fear, but she didn't back down.

“You really want to go up against Mr. Gold? Anyone who does loses.” She said, watching him warily. She was waiting for him to strike out against her. She opened her phone under the counter, ready to call Michael should anything go wrong.

“Even if I lose, at least I can make his life a little harder.” He said with a shrug, and she scowled, sinking back in her chair in annoyance. He was the most infuriating person she had ever met, and she was married to Mr. Infuriating. 

“You don't scare us.” She said, and he leaned in, and she fought against every urge to lean away from his dank breath that hit her face.

“Then you shouldn't mind what's coming your way.” He said with a smirk, and he turned around, heading out. She sighed as she leaned back in her chair, a nagging feeling eating at her. While Keith alone stood no chance against Michael, if he rallied up friends, they could make things very difficult. She knew she had to tell Michael as soon as she saw him.

She made her way over to the shop on her lunch break, stopping at Granny's and picking up roast beef sandwiches. As she walked, she noticed people looked at her differently. They looked at her as if they feared her. She knew it was really her husband they feared, and she was slowly growing accustomed to the treatment. It was an adjustment, but lately, everything was.

She entered his shop, the bell dinging softly. He was nowhere to be found, and she made her way over to the counter, setting the bag down. He was in the back, and she went to join him, a smile in place.

“She doesn't suspect a thing, it's seems. It's almost too easy.” He said, and she could hear the smirk, and she swallowed hard. Could he have been talking about her? Had the marriage been a part of a cruel trick of some sort? She couldn't help the paranoia that sank in. A tiny voice in her head was nagging that a man like him didn't just choose a random young girl to marry. She could have been part of one of his big schemes. She knew he wasn't above using people to get what he wanted. “No, no she mustn't know. When it's convenient for me... Good. Now go.” He said, and she assumed he hung up. She leaned against the counter, her eyes stinging as the worst possible scenarios played out in her head. 

She should have known better. He manipulated and used to get what he wanted, and she wasn't enough to erase that. There had to have been a catch, she had been naive to think she had a chance. The notion of two people falling in love after forced union was like out of a storybook. This wasn't a fairy tale, and she wasn't a princess. And Michael Gold certainly wasn't a prince. How frivolous to think that real life had happy endings.

“Sweetheart? I didn't know you were here.” He said, and she heard his cane thumping towards her quickly. His hand came up to rest on her waist, and he leaned in and kissed her on the cheek. “You brought me lunch?” He said, and she turned to face him, his bright smile sending an unwelcome rush through her.

“I heard you in there. What were you talking about?” She said immediately, watching his eyebrows shoot up. He leaned his cane on the counter, slipping a hand into his pocket. 

“Eavesdropping on your husband?” He asked, and she scowled, standing her ground. 

“I wasn't meaning to. Don't turn this around on me.” She shot back, folding her arms across her chest. “I trusted you.”

“Pardon? Why past tense?” He asked, and he looked genuinely confused, but she knew he was as adept at pretending as he was adept at twisting things. His expressions came out just as he needed them.

“What were you talking about?” 

“Regina!” He snapped in frustration, rubbing his temple with two fingers, leaning forward slightly. 

“R-Regina?” She asked in surprise, and he nodded, looking at her with realization in his eyes. “You mean...”

“You assumed I was talking about you. That I was deceiving you.” He clarified. And her cheeks heated up brightly as she nodded once. “Oh, sweetheart. No.” He shook his head, taking her by the arms and gently tugging her forward, nestling her into his chest. “My feelings for you are completely genuine. There's no underlying reason.” He said, and she gripped his chest, feeling utterly foolish. It wasn't like her to just jump to conclusions like that. She usually thought things out, considering all the possibilities. Perhaps it was because it was Michael, and he was growing to mean so much to her.

“It sounded like you were talking about tricking me.” She said sheepishly, feeling his hands grip her tighter, pushing her into his warm body more.

“Never. I lo- I like you a lot. This marriage isn't just a deal for me.” He said into her ear, his voice gentle.

“I'm sorry I acted that way. I'm having an off day.” She admitted, and he kissed her forehead, his hands on her hips.

“It's alright, my darling.” He said, and she shifted, looking up at him. Part of her wanted to avoid telling him about Keith, but she was frightened by the situation. Keith showed her no respect, and she knew he wasn't above harming someone for no reason.

“I came to tell you something.” She said, and he pulled back, looking at her in interest. 

“And what is that?” 

“Keith came by. He said if you don't return his rent to the normal amount, he's pressing charges.” She said, looking at him in surprise as he began to chuckle.

“Truly, I don't care if he does. The rent remains where it is.” He opened the bag and fished the sandwiches out, placing one in front of her, beginning to eat his own.

“Maybe you should just return it. I don't want anything bad to happen to you.” She said, and he smiled at her, squeezing her hand reassuringly.

“No matter what he does, I can very easily get out of any trouble.” He said, kissing the side of her head. 

“Michael, please.” She looked up at him, her fear surely showing in her eyes. 

“Hey, don't worry about me. It'll be alright.” He promised, tugging her to his chest, and she felt so silly, because she'd spent half of lunch pathetically against his chest. He let her go so she could eat quietly, and once both finished, she leaned up and kissed him. When he went to break it, she pressed closer, her kiss hungry. He pulled back only slightly, holding her away from him, jerking his head to the side. “As you remember there's a bed back there.” 

“I forgot. Show me it.” She said boldly, and he led her by the hand, bringing her into the back. They ended up in it, his lips on her own again. She pushed his jacket off, pulling him so he was atop her. Her dress went up, and his pants came open. He pulled his wallet out, taking a foil package out, and she raised an eyebrow. “You always prepared to have girls back here?”

“I've had a grand total of one back here.” He said with a chuckle, tearing it open, kissing her again. “When we started dating, I decided a man should be prepared when spending so much time with a beautiful woman. Even if he's unworthy.” He said, and she glared slightly, stroking his hair back.

“You're very worthy.” She assured, shifting in anticipation as the condom came on. He just smiled, almost shyly, and his hands came over her, readying her. They made love passionately and quickly, but the speed didn't make it any less special to her. He once again drove her to completion before him, and she was beginning to wonder if his lack of sexual confidence was just an act. Once they finished they switched positions, him laying beneath her, his jacket covering her as she snuggled into him. His legs were spread apart languidly, and her hips were nestled between them.

“We're lucky we didn't break the cot.” He said, and she giggled, leaning her head on his chest, her arm around his waist. 

“Maybe next time.”

“You plan to seduce me in my shop often?” He asked with a smirk, and she nodded immediately, smiling.

“We're newlyweds. We're supposed to make love often and in less than appropriate locations.” She pointed out, kissing his jaw gently, her hand gripping his clothing. She didn't want him to try and pull away. She needed this closeness as she had needed his body. He smiled down at her, closing his eyes as he leaned back.

“You forget I'm not a young man. What if I fail to keep up?” He asked, and it was disguised as a joke, but she knew there was real concern behind it.

“I doubt you will. And even so, sex isn't even close to everything.” She said, sitting up slightly, her hands braced on his chest.

“You're right.” He said with a smile, his arms tightening around her. 

“Do you... Do you ever think about leaving Storybrooke?” She asked curiously, and he arched an eyebrow, shrugging slightly.

“Not really. Why would I want to leave a place I own nearly entirely?” 

“Not permanently. Like on vacation.” She said, and he wrinkled his nose.

“Vacation implies tourism and floral patterned shirts.” He said, and she giggled, gently hitting his arm. “Are you asking me to take you somewhere?”

“It's just I've never left before. I really wanted to see at least part of the world... I'm just being silly.” She said, shaking her head and leaning back on his chest.

“Not silly. My wife shall want for nothing. If you'd like to go somewhere, you just have to say where.”

“You'd really do that?” 

“I would do anything for you.” He said so softly she had to strain to hear him  
They laid in comfortable silence for a few minutes, her cheek against his silky tie. Then the chime of the bell sounded and she flinched, looking up at him anxiously. “Fucking hell.” He murmured, and the vulgarity shocked her, the surprising words sending a jolt between her legs. Considering the interruption, this was an entirely inappropriate reaction. She slowly sat up off him, standing up from the bed. She helped him stand, swallowing as he glared. “I don't need help.” He hissed out, and she sighed, turning her back on him, pushing her dress back down her legs, pulling her panties back up. She blushed as she heard his trousers zip, and she heard him sigh, his hand appearing on her waist. “I'm sorry.” He said, kissing her on the head so sweetly that she couldn't help but smile. He took her hand and led her out, and she was surprised to see Graham standing, his hands through his belt loops. 

“Oh... I... I am sorry.” Graham said as he took in the state of them, shifting his feet awkwardly. She blushed a bit, realizing it was painfully obvious what they had been doing. Even though Graham had witnessed the wedding, she couldn't help but feel shy.

“Sheriff. What a surprise. What can I do for you?” He asked, taking a few steps towards the man. Graham looked very uncomfortable as kept his eyes anywhere but him.

“I'm afraid I'm here on bad terms.” He said, swallowing nervously. Michael arched his eyebrows, his lip lifting up in a small smirk.

“And why is that?” He asked, and Isabel's heart had sank so far down it was surely residing in her stomach. She knew why he was here. She took a few steps toward Michael, looping her arm through his, holding him tightly. He gently rested his other hand over her own, a small gesture of comfort, his fingers stroking her gently.

“I'm here to arrest you, sir. There are battery charges against you. I'm afraid I have to take you in.” He said, taking a few steps closer to them. Michael chuckled.

“Surely you and I can work something out.” He said, and Graham shook his head, hesitating.

“I'll be truthful. I find you honorable. I heard what happened that night, and why you did what you did. Truly, I respect you, and I think he's a scumbag. But I have to. It's a direct order from Regina.” He explained, as Isabel sighed, standing closer to Michael. Of course it was Regina. She had forgotten that she was against them due to all this business with Keith.

“I like you, sheriff. So I won't make your life difficult, on the condition that my wife can visit me whenever she wants.” He said, and Graham quickly nodding, finally looking at her. He looked sympathetic.

“Of course. Isabel is welcome at any time, starting tomorrow.” He said, and Michael nodded.

“Might I have a moment with her before you take me in?” He asked, and Graham immediately agreed, turning and beginning to inspect items in the shop. His attention was drawn to a small wolf statue. Michael turned to face her, taking both her hands in his own. Her eyes filled with tears, and he wiped the first away, his hand cupping her cheek. “I'm sorry, sweetheart. I truly thought he was all talk.”

“It's all my fault.” She whispered, and he shook his head, keeping his voice low.

“It's his fault for assaulting you. I just reacted with a different form of assault. One he entirely deserved for touching you. I won't regret defending you. I would do if a thousand times and go to jail each time if it meant you were safe from scum.” He said, and she squeezed his hand tightly, leaning forward and laying on his chest. He held her a moment, holding the back of her head gently, and she felt pressure on her head as he kissed it. “Will you come visit?”

“Everyday, twice a day.” She promised as she pulled back slightly, and he smiled, leaning in and kissing her. It was a deep and meaningful kiss, a kiss fueled by the knowledge their next would be stolen between iron bars.

“Could you lock up for me? Also, there's a spare key to the shop in my office at the house. I thought you should have it anyways. If you need to get in at all, use it.” He said, and she nodded, wiping her tears away as she stepped back from him. “I'm ready, sheriff. Did you want to purchase the wolf before we go?” He asked, and Graham looked sheepish, scratching the back of his head, but he nodded.

“It's beautiful. I would like it.” He said, carrying it over to the counter, Michael completing the transaction. Isabel was just the slightest bit amused. Only Michael could make a sale as he was being arrested. “Can I trust you to walk out?”

“Of course. I can't exactly get very far from you.” Michael said, gesturing to his leg, and Graham nodded. He put his hand on his shoulder and ushered him out, Michael turning to give her one last reassuring smile. Once the door closed, she let the brave facade down, tears sliding down her cheeks. She had just watched her husband get arrested, and she wasn't sure how long he would be in jail for. Visits wouldn't be enough, and the long and lonely nights would be agony. She wiped away her tears, making her way to the door and flipping the sign. She exited locking it behind her. She made sure his car was locked, beginning the walk back to the pink mansion. She called her work on the way, saying she wasn't to return. Surely news of Michael's arrest had already spread throughout the town, so it was understandable for her to want time.

She already wanted to go and visit him, but Graham had specifically said the following day, so she quashed the urge. She walked slow, trying to collect her racing thoughts. Michael was in jail, and it was all her fault. If she had just handled it on her own and fought her own battles, she would have still been cuddled up with him on the cot.

She made it back to his house, stepping unlocking the door and stepping into the dwelling that was gradually becoming home. She wasn't even quite sure what to do with herself. She hadn't realized just how much Michael meant to her until the very moment she learned she had lost him. The only beacon of light was who he was. Michael wasn't the type of guy to allow himself to be at a disadvantage for long, and she was sure he would find a way out of the mess he was in. The mess they were in. She curled up on the couch and wrapped herself in one of his suit jackets. The couch had such fond memories, and perhaps she could lose herself in them.   
She didn’t want to waste time despite the urge to remain stationary. Surely the library he had given her had some books on law. If not, she was certain Michael had some in his office. She didn't want to be oblivious to what was going on. She ceased her moping and stood up, heading to the library with determination. They would be together again soon. She had hope, and she would never give up on him.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Heh... I know some of you specifically said "I hope Gold doesn't go to jail." I'm sorry, but they can't just sit around having pleasant times and sex all day (or can they?) but fear not! He's Mr. Gold. He won't let himself rot for long. Thanks for reading, and for commenting! I used to get really nervous whenever I got one as I anticipated hate, but now I get excited to hear from you guys!


	23. Gold and Iron

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hello everyone! I'm sorry this was a slow update, I've been having trouble focusing on writing lately, so it took a while to finish this. I'm hoping to get inspired again so I can keep it coming. To tell you the truth I've just really been questioning myself and my writing, and I got the urge to take this and The Key down. But I thought again more rationally and will not be doing that, I have too much fun with them and genuinely love to hear from you all whenever I post it. Thank you so much for all the supportive comments and kudos (200! wow!) and I hope you all continue to like it. I honestly have no idea how long it will be. I feel like I have a lot that can happen in the story of the Golds, as long as you all stick around! You're the reason this story is still here!

She already missed the sound of a cane gently tapping. She missed the Scottish brogue that grew thicker as her husband grew sleepier. She missed three-piece suits that were pricer than clothes ever should be, and looked better than they should.. She missed sarcasm mixed with wit, surprisingly strong but neat hands, hair that was as soft as it looked. She missed warm hugs, genuine compliments, and soft kisses on her forehead. She would even say she missed the scotch and coffee breath if it meant she would have her Michael back. 

The night had been horrible. She had grown used to laying with wiry yet strong and protective arms around her. The bed seemed far too large without someone to share it with. She had chosen to sleep on the pillow he usually occupied, the scent of his shampoo prevalent on it. A poor substitute for the real thing, but it had provided a small degree of comfort. The image of Michael locked up in a cell and laying on a small cot kept her up.

She had raided his office for legal books, and found that he had made it worse for himself by using his cane. That had bumped it up from assault to assault with a deadly weapon. If he was convicted, the sentence would be greater than one year. She couldn't handle him being gone for one year, and surely wherever he went they wouldn't be as kind as Graham.

She made her way over to the station early. She couldn't stay away from him, and she was sure he wanted to see her. She made herself look as good as possible, though surely the bags under her eyes were a turn off. She tried to remind herself it wasn't about being attractive, but rather being his comfort and his strength in what was surely difficult for him. He didn't seem like a man who did particularly well with being locked up. Graham stood to greet her as she entered, smiling politely at her. 

“Hello Isabel. I'm heading to Granny's to pick up my lunch. I'll let you have some time alone with him.” He said, and she smiled, because Graham was one of the few people who wasn't judgmental towards them. He had always seemed to respect her, and she knew he had a degree of respect towards Michael. She appreciated him.

“Thank you very much.” She said with a warm smile, passing by him, locking her eyes on her husband. He was seated on the cot, still in his full suit, the tie missing. He looked terrible, and it had only been a day. His eyes were weary and bloodshot, and he was sweating profusely. His hands were fidgeting around, and he was fairly pale. She rushed over to him, and he looked up, managing to smile despite his appearance. “Michael! Are you ill?” She asked, making her way over and sitting on the arm of couch beside the cell. She reached over and took his clammy hand, holding it gently. He quickly wrapped both of his around it, looking at her as if he hadn't seen her in days.

“I'm alright, I-”

“Take your jacket off! You're burning up.” She said, pressing the back of her hand to his forehead. He sighed slightly, but stood, removing his hands from her and slipping his jacket off. He scooted the bed closer to the bars, sitting and taking her hand. “How bad was your night?”

“I do think my back will never fully recover after sleeping on this mattress.” He began to toy with her ring, his fingers nudging it around her finger. He kept his eyes trained on her face.

“I missed you so much last night. It wasn't the same sleeping alone.” She admitted, leaning forward so she was closer to him. He mimicked her position, his hair hanging slightly in his face.

“I'm sorry I didn't call. I used my phone call to contact Mr. Spencer. He's the district attorney, and he owes me a favor. It shouldn't take more than a week for me to get out.” He said, and she sighed in relief, a smile spreading across her face.

“That's wonderful. I don't know what I would do if you were in here for a long time. Your house was so lonely.” She said, and he sighed, giving her hands a slight squeeze. 

“I know it's not long. But I'm still quite antsy in here. And the food he's feeding me is terrible.” He said, and she smiled sympathetically, trying to get closer to him. She pulled a chair over and moved so her legs were slightly between the bars, and he put his against her own, the contact just enough to give comfort. It also made her yearn to be close to him without iron separating their bodies.

“I'll see if he'll let me bring you in dinner, once he comes back.” She offered, and he nodded, looking up at her. “Are you ill?”

“No, no I'm not ill.”

“You look terrible.”

“Thank you sweetheart. I can always count on you to boost my confidence.” He said sardonically, and she rolled her eyes, giving him a serious look.

“I don't mean it like that. I mean terribly sick.” She said, and he sighed, leaning his head against the bars.

“You could make me better. If you want to..” He said slowly, and she immediately nodded, reaching between the bars to stroke his hair.

“Of course I do! Do you want me to go pick you up some medicine?” She asked, and he slowly shook his head, looking ashamed.

“In my office, there's a flask. I need you to fill it with scotch, and bring it in for me.” He said, and her heart sank, anger flaring up in her chest. He wanted to use her to feed his addiction. She yanked her hands back, standing up from the chair, watching him shrink back slightly.

“Are you that selfish that you would ask me to sneak alcohol into the sheriff station? What is wrong with you?” She asked, folding her arms across her chest. He looked down at his lap, his throat bobbing as he swallowed hard.

“I need it... You said you wanted to make me feel better.”

“Don't you dare try to make me feel guilty. Know what? I'm leaving.” She said, backing away from him. He quickly stood up, his hands wrapping around the bars.

“N-no, please don't. I'm sorry for asking.” He said, reaching his hand out to her. “I need you more than I need a drink. Please don't leave me.” He said, his voice faltering at the end of his words, his eyes falling to the floor.

“Is this what it's always going to be like?” She asked sadly, and he tilted his head, staring at her.

“What do you mean?”

“Am I always going to have a liquid for competition? Because that's what it feels like. And it scares me to think of which you would choose if you had to pick one.” She said, and he shook his head, reaching his hand out to her.

“It doesn't have to scare you. I would choose you. Over anything.” He said, his face twisting desperately as he reached for her, and he truly looked his age, even ten years older.

“I want to believe you. But how can I when I'm here for five minutes and you ask me to bring you booze?” She asked, her voice reflecting her hurt, and he looked down at the ground. Tears were stinging her eyes, and she took a shaky breath to try and calm herself.

“I don't know how to make you believe me. But I'll prove it. If you want me to make a choice, I will. I'll stop completely.”

“No... I know that will make you sick.”

“I already am sick. Your happiness is more important than mine.” He said, stretching his arm, and she finally stepped closer, letting him take her hand.

“No it isn't. We both deserve happiness.” She said firmly.

“But you make me happy. Drinking doesn't make me happy.” He said, and she noticed his hand was shaking as she held it. 

“What do you feel like right now? Or rather, what did you feel like before I came in?”

“Nervous, almost as nervous as I felt when I asked you to marry me. Nauseous. Irritable. My head was pounding.” He said, and she suddenly felt extremely idiotic. She had been so upset by him that she had missed what was really going on. He was experiencing withdrawals. She had read about them recently, and had refrained from asking him to quit completely because she hadn't wanted him to go through them. And now it was clear to her that he was. She had read it was agony even when mild, and she had also read they could prove to be life threatening. She never wanted him in such danger. The only way to stop them was to get him a drink.

“You're having withdrawals. I will bring you something. But not much. Just enough to make them stop.”

“No. I know it displeases you. I will deal with them for you.” He said, and she couldn't help but give a small smile, squeezing his hand.

“That's brave of you. But it's unsafe. We have to go slow so your body doesn't do this. It will get worse, I've read plenty about them. I'll be back at dinner with your flask.” She said, letting him tug her to the bars, their bodies close.

“Why are you doing this? Why are you staying with me even though I'm a pathetic old drunk?” He asked so softly she had to strain to hear him, and she looked up at him, swallowing slightly.  
“Because you're my husband. I will stand by you through anything. I feel so much for you, and I refuse to give up on you. You're worth fighting for. And we'll fight together. We'll go slow, little by little. I will help you wean your body off it. I know you can do this, but I also want it done safely. I'm not bringing you it because I approve of it. I'm bringing you it because I want you safe.” She said, and he leaned in, his face against the bars. She leaned in as well, kissing him, the cold metal pressing against her face. His breath was fairly horrible, but she ignored it, because his lips were wonderful. His hand came through the bars to pull her in closer, his arm wrapping around her waist. She was the one to break the kiss, pulling back slowly, her hand caressing his stubbly cheek gently. He smiled slightly, trying to lean through the bars to kiss her forehead, his lips just ghosting it, and they both laughed softly.

“Do you think it's too late to ask for a conjugal visit?” He asked with a smirk, and she giggled more, tilting her head as she looked up at him. 

“I don't think Graham would allow that.” She said with a smile, running her hand along her chest gently.

“Allow what?” Asked an accented voice, and she turned, seeing Graham looking over at then with a cocked brow, and she couldn’t help but blush.

“Oh nothing. He's just being silly.” She said, and Michael just smirked, leaning up against the bars. “Though I was wondering if I could bring him dinner later.”

“I don't see why not. Just no being here past 7, that's when I leave.” He said, and she nodded her understanding, turning to smile at Michael.

“What do you want me to make?” She asked sweetly, and he looked down sheepishly, smiling at her.

“Whatever is easy. You don't have to do this, so I'll appreciate whatever.” He looked pleased nonetheless, and she nodded, leaning in and attempting to kiss him, ending up stuck on the bars. He leaned forward as well, chuckling before he kissed her. She pulled back slowly, looking up at him.

“I'll be back in a few hours.” She said, and he nodded, giving her hand a firm squeeze.

“I'll see you later, sweetheart.” He said as she backed away, and he limped over to his cot, sitting down heavily as he watched her go. She made her way to Graham's office, smiling sweetly.

“Would you like me to bring you some, Graham?”

“Oh, thank you Isabel, but that's alright. I'll likely be on patrol when you get here, but I trust you. Besides, we both know Mr. Gold won't be in there for long. It's just a technical thing. Personally, I agree with what he did.” He said with a small smile, and she beamed at him, nodding.

“I appreciate you saying that. He was just trying to protect me.” She said, and he looped his fingers through his belt, standing straighter.

“I think there's honor in a man willing to risk himself to protect his woman.”

“Thank you. For everything. A lot of people in this town are against us, and you're one of the few who still treat me normally.” She said a bit sadly, looking over her shoulder to see Michael was looking over at her, his hands on his knees.

“I don't think people should be judged on who they're with romantically. You're your own person, not just Mr. Gold's wife.” He said, and she smiled wide.

“Thank you, Graham. For seeing it that way. I really must be going, but thank you.” She said, and he just gave her a small nod, and she waved to both men, turning and heading back to Michael's house. She tucked herself away in her library, reading whatever she could find on alcoholism. She wanted to make sure she entirely understood just what Michael was going through, even if she had already read up on it. After all, she couldn't help very well if she didn't understand it. She focused on withdrawals for the time being, since it was most relevant to his current state. She had made a mistake when she became angry with him. One of the things that came along with withdrawals was the inability to think clearly. He wasn't in the proper state of mind, so he hadn't meant any offense. He was an addict who needed his substance, and though she didn't want to, she was the only one who could get it to him. His safety was most important, so it eased her discomfort at bringing him something.

She knew it wouldn't make much of a difference. She had seen how much he drank each day, and the more one drank, the worse the process was. He would still be uncomfortable and suffering, but a drink would lessen it. The only way to do this that didn't put him at risk was to take baby steps. She didn't have to like it, but she couldn't risk losing him to what she was trying to save him from.

She set to the task of preparing dinner. She didn't want to go too crazy considering she would have to transport it and fit it through a cell, so she chose to make him grilled chicken. He didn't eat much unless prompted, but he wasn't exactly picky when he did. She went into his office and searched through the drawers, finding his flask and filling it with scotch. Her nose wrinkled at the scent, and she quickly capped it, tucking it inside her coat. She placed the food in a tupperware container, and made her way back to the station. 

Graham was sitting in his office, tossing a ball up and down. He fumbled to catch it as he saw her, and it rolled across the floor, landing in front of her. She chuckled and picked it up, tossing it to him. He scratched the back of his head, smiling sheepishly.

“Sorry about that, Isabel. I swear, I wasn't throwing it at you.” He joked, and she smiled, rolling her eyes.

“I know, it's no trouble.” 

“You can stay until I come back to lock up. Keep the fact that I'm leaving you unattended quiet. It's only because I know you are to be trusted.” He said, and she felt a pang, because a reason not to trust her was sitting inside her jacket pocket. She just nodded, making her way over to Michael, who was sitting quietly on the cot. He looked much worse than he had earlier, and she could see the panic in his eyes. He relaxed slightly as she sat down, looking over at her.

“I thought you weren't coming...” He said softly, and she tilted her head, scooting the chair closer. He moved to the edge of the bed, looking at her intensely. He seemed to be having a mild panic attack, which she had read was a possible result of withdrawals. She shook her head, looking at him gently as she reached in, taking his sweaty hand.

“I said I would, and I always mean what I say to you.” She said sweetly, and he leaned forward, holding her hand tightly. She had never seen him like this, and though she cared for him all the same, she never wanted to see him like this again. It was terrible, to see him so vulnerable and be so unable to help him. “I brought dinner.” She said, handing him the container between the bars, and he took it, looking up at her.

“Thank you.” He took a small bite, looking down as he did. She knew what he was waiting for, so she sighed, pulling the flask out of her coat.

“And what you asked me for.” She said, trying to keep how it upset her out of her voice. His hand immediately shot out for it, and she sighed, placing it in his hand. The cap was off in seconds and he was pouring it down his throat, his throat bobbing as he swallowed. She couldn't help but feel slight disgust, and also slight awe at the fact he was able to drink it like that. He sat back after a moment, breathing out softly.

“Thank you, my love. Thank you.” He said softly, his head lolling to the side as he looked at her. There was a loving look in his eyes, and she felt a pang to think it had required a flask of scotch to receive it. Things were silent as he drank the rest and ate, and he avoided her gaze. She sat back slightly, her hands clasped tightly on her lap. He set the container down as he finished, finally looking up at her. “I... If you hadn't brought it to me, I still would have appreciated you just as much.” He said, standing up and reaching through the bars, taking her hand, dropping to a knee, wincing.

“Michael, your leg, don't do-”

“I'm alright. It's worth it to be closer to you.” He said softly, and she couldn't keep the smile off her face. She dropped to sit down as well, and their hands formed a tangle.

“I'm not angry that I had to bring it to you. I just hate that you seemed more happy to get that than to see me.” She confided, and he shook his head, squeezing her hands a bit.

“I wasn't. It's just without it, I've been feeling like shit. I've told you once, and I'll tell you again. You're more important to me. I need you, but my body needs the drink. They're at constant war.” He said softly, leaning his head against the bars, his face stressed.

“It's okay. I know. It's just hard to remember sometimes.”

“I will never let you forget or question what you mean to me.” He said, tilting his head to the side as he looked at her. “I... I just need you to know.”

“I know, because I can just think of what you mean to me, and know it must be the same.” She said, and he looked at her in surprise, but said nothing more of it. They sat together and spoke for the rest if the time, nothing major or heavy creeping into conversation. They were laughing softly as footsteps came in, and she turned to see Graham.

“Oh... I can put a chair in there for you, Mr. Gold. For next time.” He said, scratching the back of his head as Isabel discreetly tucked the flask into her coat. Michael had color back and looked much better, and he was no longer shaking. 

“That would be useful.” He said, his breath hitting her face and making her wince from the heavy scent of booze. He tried to stand, using the bars to slowly pull himself up, his bad leg moving in what looked like a painful way. She helped him as best as she could despite the bars, standing straight up herself. She held his hands as they stood, and she looked up at him.

“I'll be back tomorrow at dinner time. Any requests?”

“Anything as long as you made it.” He said with a slight smile, and she leaned in, her face through the bars. He leaned the rest of the way, pressing a kiss to her lips, his hand holding her's tightly. “I'll see you tomorrow. Try to get some rest. I can see you didn't sleep much.” He said sternly, and she rolled her eyes, nodding.

“It's hard without you. But I'll try. Goodbye, Michael.” She said, squeezing his hand, holding it as she backed away, only letting go when she had to. 

Leaving him was hard. But the knowledge that he had a plan in order was comforting enough to at least get some sleep. She slept with his pillow curled tightly in her arms, lulled into sleep by his lingering scent and the hope for his return. He would be back home soon, and they could begin to seriously work on rehabilitating him. It wouldn’t be an easy journey, but they would do it as they would do everything.

Together.


	24. Judgement

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So I know I always apologize for posting late, but this time I mean it entirely. It's been about three weeks, and I truly feel bad. But, the good news is I have written three chapters ahead, so updates will be more regular again. Part of the reason I put off posting so much is because I'm really a terrible editor, so it takes me awhile to proofread, and I dislike doing that. It's really no excuse, so I will do my best to overcome how much I hate reading my own stuff. I have been watching the kudos and hits, and wow, I am stunned. Thank you so much for your continued support of this story. Without further ado, chapter 24!

For a few days, nothing changed. Isabel got through work on autopilot, went to the pink house, and then she went to the jail. Graham was always kind enough to give them some time alone, and it was more than she could hope for given he was in prison. She continued to smuggle him in a full flask each night, and though he was still a bit irritable, she could have attributed that to his lack of sleep. Her own lack of sleep was taking it's toll on her, and she just wanted her bed companion back. He assured her that his favor would be enacted in just a few days, but she wasn't sure she could take much more. She had no idea how women or men whose spouses were locked away dealt with the pain, and she had only just married the man. 

However brief their time together had been, she was almost certain she loved him. She knew very little of love beyond family, so she wasn't entirely sure of how to tell. All she knew she had read in books, and although books were wonderful and told much, they couldn't tell just what she was feeling. What she was feeling was unlike anything before, surely that had to be what love felt like. He was much more experienced than her, but even so, could he have been feeling the same thing. Was it less potent if you had loved another? She wasn't even entirely sure if he had loved anyone before, but surely, he had. He was full to the brim with powerful emotions, so surely it wasn't the first time he had had forged such a connection.

Then again, he was as unsure and fumbling as he was deep and loving. It was an interesting combination, shy and sweet mixed with passionate and intoxicating. He was as complicated as she had originally thought, and perhaps even more so. But she wouldn't have wanted anyone else in the world. He was perfect to her, and she was certain no one would be better for her, even with all his edges and imperfections. She had never imagined she would think someone who got themselves arrested for assault and battery to be wonderful and perfect, but a lot in her life was nonsensical.

Loving Michael Gold was like wading into a chilled swimming pool. Going slowly was agonizing and sent shocks throughout your body. It gave you time to regret. It was best to just dive right in, and deal with the consequences and aching cold after the plunge. That was what she had to do. She had to just be true to herself and admit it rather than question it or regret it, or push it to the back of her mind. Because once you were in that pool and over the initial cold, you had a wonderful time, and when it was time to get out, you hesitated. The difference was she never wanted to get away from Michael. She would stand by and support him through anything. That had to of been love.

He looked at her as if she was the world to him. She wasn't sure why she would be or how that had even happened, but he still did it. No one in her life had ever made her feel as if she was important, as if she mattered. No one had been cruel, but she knew the town thought her to be a bit odd, she knew of the whispers. It didn't matter to her, she had everything she needed. Michael was her husband and her friend, someone she could talk to about anything. They had sat with the bars between them, talking about nothing and everything each day. He cared about whatever book she was reading, and he was interested in her past. She was important to him, and to her, he was the most important person in the world.

She had to tell him she loved him. But first she had to be sure he actually did. Love was a tricky thing for someone who had never felt it, and she wanted to be positive when she told him. It had to be genuine and true, and he had to believe it. He had such difficulties with trusting in words and even in actions, so she had to be certain of herself so he would in turn be as certain. She could at the very least let him know how important he was, something she had been trying to do. Surely he knew she wouldn't visit him daily if he didn't mean the world to her.

She had no work due to the vet taking the day off, so she made her way over the the prison. His flask was tucked away safely, and she had a roast beef sandwich for lunch. She entered the station with a slight bounce in her steps, her hair swinging behind her. She was excited to see him. Since she had the day off, she could spend all day with him. While a jail cell wasn't the most romantic environment, it was worth it to spend time with him.

Her heart sank deep in her chest as she walked in. Regina was there, sitting in her usual seat, speaking to him. Her legs were crossed and she was close, and they seemed to be having a private conversation. He was seated in the chair he sat in for her, and she couldn't help but feel a stab of jealousy. She was tempted to just turn around and walk out, but that would be the cowardly thing to do. She stepped in, clearing her throat. Both looked over at her immediately, Michael standing up.

“Belle! You're here.” He said, and Regina's head snapped to him, her eyes narrowing as she looked at him. She looked almost fearful, and Isabel had no idea why. She took a few tentative and shy steps towards the cell, Michael's hand loosely through the bars. 

“Hello dear. What are you doing here? A lovely girl like you shouldn't waste a day in a prison with a criminal.” Regina said in that sickly sweet tone, smiling wide. 

“A day with my husband is not a day wasted.” She said firmly, watching the smile slip away, replaced by a slight scowl.

“No, of course not.” She said, and Isabel took the last few steps toward him. She tried to take his hand, but he curled it around the bar, shocking her.

“We're just discussing some business. Why don't you come back later?” Michael said, and she swallowed hard, trying not to be overly insulted. The way she saw it, he was choosing Regina over her, and that hurt more than she thought possible.

“Maybe.” She said, unable to keep the hurt from her tone, and she saw Regina smirk. His eyebrows knit together, and he looked at her nervously.

“Why maybe?” He asked, keeping his voice down for the semblance of privacy. They both knew Regina was paying close attention, probably trying to scope out any marital issues.

“Because I might have business.” She snapped, and he looked at her in shock, faltering slightly.

“I would like very much if you came back. Perhaps you could go shopping and then come back for the rest of the day.” He said softly, and he finally took her hand, his fingertips just ghosting her wrist. She gave a small nod. Retail therapy was said to be effective, and she certainly needed to unwind. She tried to keep the hurt from her voice when she spoke.

“That's a good idea. I think I will.” She said quietly, and he smiled softly, nodding.

“We won't be long, so come back whenever you're done.” He said, lifting her hand to his lips and kissing it, and she was happy for the flicker of affection. He looked down at her, his mouth open slightly, as if he was about to speak. He closed it, looking down. “I'll see you.”

“Okay. Bye.” She said softly, backing away, letting go of his hand once she was too far away to hold it. She ignored the anxiety building in her chest as she walked away, leaving him with the mayor. 

She took his advice, making her way to the only clothing store in town, the card burning in her bag. This would he the first time she used it, but truly, she couldn't remember the last time she bought clothes. She had had the same wardrobe for as long as she could remember, so this was long overdue. And he was her husband, surely there was nothing wrong with using his money. She still couldn't help but feel odd about it.

The dresses called her name, so she walked over, beginning to look through them. There were many to choose from, and she liked at least half of them. She felt the tingle brought on by being watched, and she looked out of the corner of her eye. Two women she did not know were staring at her, whispering between themselves. She swallowed, turning her full attention back to the dresses. She selected a few in her size, also picking out two skirts. 

She idly wondered what sort of clothing Michael liked her in. There didn't seem to be a specific type of outfit that drew him in. Almost everyday since they had married, he had told her she looked beautiful. While the compliments were flattering, it didn't give her any inclination to what he found beautiful. She selected a short dress in a shade of yellow. Perhaps he would like to see her in a color close to has favorite. A pleasant surprise for when he was released from prison.

She brought her small but surely expensive pile up to the counter, laying the clothes down. The cashier looked at her with a mixture of fear and contempt, and began to ring in her purchases. She reached into her purse, pulling out the plastic with the name Gold on it. She took a small breath, extending it when the total displayed on the screen. She swiped it, entering the pin Michael had given her, and slowly slid it away. She didn't feel quite as guilty for using it as she imagined. 

As the nosy women from before passed by, they continued to speak in a hush. The only thing she could make out was the phrase 'gold digger.' It hit her like a ton of bricks. She had known that people would expect her of being after him for his money. But to actually hear such a vile accusation come from someone's mouth hurt more than she had thought. Her recent suspicions of being in love with Michael just made it sting, because she would never use him like that. Even if the marriage started with a deal, it had never started with money. She wasn't sure if reality was worse than their expectations. Reality made Michael look horrible, and expectations made her look horrible. There was no pleasant way about it.

She quietly took her bags, making her way out of the store without a word to anyone. She walked briskly to hide the tears forming in the corner of her eyes, her heels clicking. She regretfully wasn't prepared for this reaction to her. She should have known, and she just felt like a stupid girl for not. The town wouldn't focus on Michael's arrest. They would focus on their marriage, and how she must have been using him simply because she was young. No matter what did, they would be judged for their love. It was far more interesting to talk about the young girl using the infamous Mr. Gold than it was to talk about the arrest everyone knew was a formality. Because he was Mr. Gold, and no one crossed him and got away with it.

She was Isabel Gold. But her name didn't strike fear into their hearts, and she didn't want it to. But the one thing she wanted that he had, that all people deserved, was a level of respect. His respect came from fear, but it was still perfectly existent and legitimate. She just wanted to be seen as her own person, for people to see her and not a stereotype. It was nasty, for people to assume any young girl would be after money. She didn't want to care what they thought, but it was hard to totally ignore it. Michael's absence had left her more vulnerable than she normally would have been, so that could have been the reason for her distress.

Two different people engaged in whispers and stares as she passed them in the street, and she could hear the laughter over her shoulder. Her eyes burned as she walked on. She had done nothing to deserve this, and yet she was suddenly loathed by the town. She had always been the odd and quiet girl who people ignored, but they had always known her as friendly and kind. Her new reputation was slanderous.

She took the bags home, her steps heavier and less chipper than usual. She didn't even have the energy to try one of the new dresses on. She just set off to making dinner right away, her motions mechanical and automatic as she prepared a simple meal of pasta. She put it inside the container, pouring some spaghetti sauce atop it. She nearly walked out without his flask, and she bitterly filled it, wanting nothing more than to never smell it's scent again. She tucked it into her jacket, sighing as she picked the pasta up, making her way back out the door.

Graham wasn't there, but she knew she was welcome, so she entered. Michael was sitting in a clean shirt and waistcoat she had brought him, his hair combed neatly. She could hear his foot tapping on the floor, the pace speedy and almost panicked. His head was hanging, and he looked just like a man serving a heavy sentence. She made sure to walk more heavily, causing him to look up, surprise flitting across his face.

“You came back.” He said softly, and she sat in her chair, wordlessly slipping the pasta over to him. He sat at his chair, looking at her uncertainly. She knew what he was waiting for, and she huffed, pulling the flask out and shoving it into his hand.

“Since you have what you want, I can leave now.” She said, turning on her heel. She swallowed hard as tears burned her eyes, the emotions of the day finally catching up with her.

“Belle! No, no I want you to stay. Please stay with me, I won't drink this if you don't wish it.” He said quickly, and she could feel his fingertips ghost her arm as he reached out for her. She took a step back, welcoming his gentle touch on her arm. His tug was feather light as he tried to bring her back, and she moved with him, turning to face him. His eyebrows shot up as he saw her tears, and he took her arms, pulling her closer. “I'm so sorry. I didn't mean to upset you, sweetheart.”

“It's not you. At least, that wasn't what I was upset about.” She said softly, dropping her gaze to his chest, her eyes falling shut after a moment. She stepped closer, her body against the bars. “Something happened when I was out. I took your advice, I went shopping.” She said shakily, leaning her face against the bars, his lips instantly pressing against her forehead.

“What happened, love?” 

“These two women walked by me. And they said I was a gold digger. I don't know why it bothered me, but these other women were making fun of me too. This whole town is saying it, and I don't know how to handle it. No one's ever been cruel to me before.” She said quietly, feeling his fingers wipe her cheeks gently. She opened her eyes and looked up at him, seeing fury raging in his eyes.

“And, ah, who was it that said these things?” He asked, and she knew that tone, and she was grateful she could honestly say she had no idea who they were. 

“I don't know them.” She said, and he sighed softly, his arms coming through the bars to curl around her.

“Would you like me to release the truth?”

“What? No! Then they'll speak ill of you, and probably still me.” She said, and he nodded, holding her as best she could with the bars still there. Her arms wrapped around him, and if not for the cold of the bar, she would have felt warm and secure.

“They already speak ill of me. They're hushed because they're frightened. But when they think no one of mine is listening, they do. They don't fear you because I'm in here. But if I was by your side, they wouldn't say one word in your company.” He said, and she nodded, letting out a sigh.

“I want to matter as more than just your wife. I'm not just Mrs. Gold, I'm my own person.” She said, her voice taking on a stronger edge.

“I know. The people in this town are simple minded. You just have to remember they don't matter. We both know you're not a gold digger. I had to more or less force the card into your hands.” He said teasingly, and she smiled, letting out a soft laugh.

“I bought some things I think you'll like. You need to come back with me some time, you have good fashion taste.” She said, looking up at him, watching his brow arch.

“Do I now?”

“Yes. You're the best dressed person in town.” 

“Yes but women's fashion isn't really my area.” He stroked her cheek, looking down at her fondly, smiling.

“But you'll still come with me.” She said, her knee between the bars, against his good leg. They were as close as they could possibly be, and she wasn't sure when a desire for comfort had turned into a desire for something else. Michael had the ability to bring that out in her.

“You're so sure of it.” 

“I am.” She said, trailing a finger down his chest, her eyes on his. She was entirely unsure how to tease a man, but she was comfortable enough to test things out with him. Judging by the look on his face, he didn't mind either. “I know you will, because you like making me happy.” She said, her fingers gently stroking the side of his jaw, a smirk on her face. 

“I am... I mean, I do.” He was looking down at her with lust filled eyes, and she realized that she had missed that look. She guided his chin down, leaning up and kissing him on the lips. He leaned down more, his arms pulling her closer, the bar pressing against her almost painfully. She didn't care, she pressed in even more, her hand tangling in his hair. 

“Oh, ah, excuse me.” Came an accented voice, and Graham sheepishly went into his office, trying to busy himself with papers. She blushed brightly as she separated from Michael, looking up at him.

“You need to eat, anyways...”

“I was...”

“Michael! Food.” She giggled softly, sitting back down, prompting him to as well. He smirked slightly, beginning to eat his pasta. “Why was Regina here?”

“Oh, you know, to taunt me a bit. She said she would help me get out if I did a favor for her.” 

“What was the favor?”

“I don't know. I didn't ask. Mr. Spencer is handling things for me, so Regina's offer is utterly useless. Why owe a favor when I can cash in on one?” He asked, popping the flask open, looking as if he was waiting to be scolded. She could see his body beginning to react to having nothing, so she said nothing. He took a long sip, licking his lips as he finished, sighing out softly. 

“Good?” She asked, her voice calm, and he looked up at her in surprise, nodding.

“Wonderful.” He admitted, swallowing down more. He leaned into her more, keeping his voice low. “But it isn't even half as wonderful as your kiss.” He said deeply, and she couldn't help but smile wide, looking at him happily. She stayed with him until Graham had to go, and they kissed again, his kiss desperate. He placed the flask in her hand, pulling back enough to look at her. “I'll see you tomorrow?”

“Of course. You know you will.” She said, gently stroking his cheek, smiling. He smiled back, nodding. 

“I look forward to seeing you, my sweet.” He said, leaning in and kissing her again, squeezing her hand.

“Any requests for dinner tomorrow night?”

“It's nice enough that you bring me it. I can't start getting picky.” He said, watching her closely, and she nodded.

“Goodnight Michael.” She said, slowly turning on her heel and walking out, Graham escorting her. They walked out to the parking lot, and he stood by his cruiser.

“Do you want a ride home?” He offered politely, and she considered it a moment. It was dark out, and she wasn't sure just how safe this town was anymore.

“That would be nice. It's not far.”

“I know where it is. Hop in.” He climbed into the driver's seat, buckling in as she did. They drove in relative silence, and he smiled as he dropped her off.

“Thank you Graham.” 

“Anything you need, Isabel.” He said, looking down a moment, and she backed up, smiling.

“Thank you. I've really appreciated how kind you've been with Michael in jail.” 

“I consider you and I friends. And I don't have many, so it makes sense to do this for you.” He said, and she nodded a moment.

“We are friends. I'll see you when I come to the station tomorrow.” She said, and he nodded, waving politely. He didn't drive away until she made it up to the door and inside the house. She locked the door behind her, heaving a sigh at the emptiness of the massive house. She made her way up the stairs, undressing and climbing into bed. Michael's pillow was losing the scent of him, so it was nearly useless. She held it nonetheless, drifting off after an hour of restlessness. Things still weren't alright, but they were on the road to it. Or so she hoped.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you for reading! Next chapter soon!


	25. Reunited

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hello beautiful readers! I wanted to take time to thank all of you who comment. I want to thank you each time you do, but that would just get redundant. But I always appreciate the feedback, and I really look forward to talking to you all above all! Sometimes I worry about not doing these characters justice, and you all reassure me! In addition to the comments, thank you for all the kudos! If you're reading and haven't, click that little button! Takes a second but lets me know I'm doing well. Also, if any of you would like to contact me on tumblr, my URL is thedarkonesdearie. I would love to hear from you! That's all I have to say for now, so I hope you enjoy chapter 25!

Work was, as usual, mundane. She managed to get through the day without falling asleep at her desk, an accomplishment in itself. The only thing she had to look forward to was going to see Michael in jail. The hours ticked by slowly, and finally, she was able to leave. She went straight back to Michael's house, preparing him a meal. Once she was finished and the flask was filled, she headed out, deciding she wanted to get there earlier than usual to maximize the time with her husband.

She walked down the street, her jacket pulled tightly around around her. She was beginning to tire of walking to the station each and everyday, but Michael was completely worth it. As she walked, she heard footsteps behind her, though she thought nothing of it. Not until her arm was grabbed, and she was stopped in her tracks. She turned around, gasping in surprise.

“Dad? What are you doing?” She asked, pulling her arm from his grasp and backing away slightly, looking up at him. Her hands trembled, and she quickly clasped them together, trying to hide it. He looked down at her, his throat bobbing as he swallowed hard. 

“Izzy, I wanted to talk to you.” He said, fidgeting with the hem of his shirt, looking down. He lifted both hands as if to hug her, but they ended up falling limp by his side. 

“You could have done so at my wedding.” She said, not moving from where she stood, her body stiff. He may have been her father, but she wasn't exactly willing to welcome him back with open arms. He had hurt her deeply when he shunned her marriage. His dislike for Michael was clearly greater than his love for her. If it hadn't been, he would have put aside his dislike and attended her wedding, even gave her away.

“I don't want to talk about that. I wanted to see how you are.” He said, lifting his cap off his head and slowly lowering it back down, scuffing his feet. His discomfort was easy to see, and she couldn't help but think he absolutely deserved it.

“I'm doing fine.”

“I heard Gold was in jail. I warned you about him.” He said, shaking his head, and she felt a rush of anger. A scowl appeared in her face, and he almost recoiled.

“My husband is in jail because he was protecting me from some creep who harassed me at a club. Everyone seems to be leaving that part out of the story.” She snapped, her hands ending up on her hips as she glared at him. He looked down at her warily, backing up slightly.

“I told you he had a temper on him. I'm here because I'm concerned for your safety.” He said, and she scoffed, rolling her eyes.

“You should be. Because my husband is in jail, and there's a sleazy guy who wants to cause trouble for both of us, so I have to worry every night that'll he'll come do something to me. But don't worry, Michael will be out soon.” She said, stepping around him and continuing on her trip to the jail. He called her name from behind her, but she was in no mood to deal with his discourtesy today. She had gotten very little sleep, and when she had slept, it hadn't been peaceful. She didn't have patience or even tolerance today.

She went straight to the sheriff's station, walking inside the building. Her heels clicked as she walked, the leather strap of her handbag clutched tightly in her hand. She entered the room Michael was in, seeing he was out, his cane back in his hand. Mr. Spencer was shaking his hand, the two talking in quiet voices. Graham stood behind him, his fingers looped through his belt.

Did this mean he was free? It certainly seemed that way. She stood awkwardly a moment, watching them talk. She took another step, the loud click of the heel alerting them. Michael turned around, smiling as he saw her, taking a few steps closer. She made her way over quickly, throwing her arms around his neck. She heard his cane clatter to the floor, and both his arms came around her, mashing her body into him.

“Michael... Are you free? Please tell me you are...” She spoke softly, her voice only for him, her cheek pressed tightly into his chest. She could feel each individual finger press tightly into her as he clutched, his body warm against her own.

“I am. I'm free.” He said, pulling back just enough to look down at her, and she smiled wide, cupping his cheek as she looked up at him.

“I'm so glad. I missed you.” She said softly, looking up at him, their faces close. Her eyes shimmered as she looked up at him, her other hand smoothing down his chest. She jumped as she heard a throat clear, Mr. Spencer making his way over.

“I'll leave you to your wife, Mr. Gold.”

“Always a pleasure to do business with you.” Michael said, the men sharing smirks, and Spencer walked past. Graham took his place before them, holding a tray.

“Here are your keys, wallet, pocket watch, and cufflinks.” Graham said, and Michael took his hands offer to grab his things, storing everything inside his various pockets in his suit. She bent and picked up his cane for him, placing it in his hand. “Your car is in the lot.”

“Thank you very much, Sheriff. I won't forget the kindness you've showed my wife these past few days.” He said, and she took his hand, standing beside him. Graham nodded once, his hands in his belt loops as he stood.

“There's no need to thank me, sir.” Graham said, looking between the two of them, smiling kindly. 

“We've both been here enough, especially you. I'm ready to go home.” She said, looking up at Michael, and he quickly nodded. They both waved to Graham before walking out hand and hand. He walked her to her side of the car, and she gasped in surprise as he firmly but carefully pushed her up against the car. He leaned down and kissed her deeply, her arms coming up to wrap around his shoulders. His hands rested on her hips, and he pressed his body against her own, his warmth seeping into her. 

“I missed you so painfully much. Seeing you through the bars was but a tease.” He said, stroking her cheek gently, leaning his forehead on her own. “To see, but not be able to properly touch. To know you wanted to be held, but being unable to do it. Especially because you came to me upset.” He kissed her on the head, running his hands along her arms. He pulled the car door open, helping her into the car. She watched as he made his way into the drivers seat, starting the car. She leaned her head back on the seat, sighing out contently as he began to drive. Things were finally being restored to normal, and she couldn't be any happier. She had her husband back, and she wasn't sure if she'd ever let him go again. She was too happy to even focus on speaking, and she simply sat back, wearing a small smile. He glanced over at her, facing forward with a smile of his own.

He drove them to his house, and she indulged his need for gentlemanly action and remained in the car, giving him time to limp over. To pulled the door open and offered a hand, pulling her out. He closed the door and walked her up the path, and she couldn't help but notice he was limping more heavily. She slid into his side, her arm coming around his waist. To him it was affection, to her it was affection mixed with the purpose of providing a bit of additional support. He pressed a feather soft kiss to the top of her head, leaning his face against her a moment. 

“Are you happy to be home?” She asked softly, her arms tight around his waist as they stood aimlessly in the kitchen. He nodded against her, his fingers splayed across her side. He straightened up so his chin just rested on her head, his arms tightening around her.

“I'm happy to be back with you. The location is merely a convenience.” He said, leaning against the counter, his hand running along her waist. He took a moment to look her over, his eyes scanning her body. “A new dress?” 

“Yes. I can't believe you noticed. Most guys wouldn't...”

“It looks wonderful on you.” He said, and she smiled, leaning up to peck his lips quickly.

“Thank you, Michael. Do you need anything?” 

“Ah... No, no I don't.” He said softly, and she knew what he meant. She stepped away from his side, making her way to the cabinet and pulling out a brand new bottle of scotch. She took one of his glasses out, pouring some in. His eyebrows shot up as she held it out to him, and he slowly took it from her, hesitating slightly, seeming to wait for her disapproval. 

“Was it alright with what I brought you? Was it enough?” 

“Not enough. It was enough to make it not painful. It helped me to think more like myself though. I still felt... Felt the added anxiety. But it wasn't unmanageable.” He said, taking the glass and bringing it to his lips. He drank it much more slowly than he had in prison, seeming to enjoy the expensive drink more from a glass than he had from a flask. 

“Do you think you'd be able to continue with what you've been drinking?” She asked, and he looked at her reluctantly. After a moment he nodded slowly.

“I don't want to. But I can. It's enough.”

“We can wait a couple of weeks, and lower it again. We'll keep going lower until your body is used to not having much at all. Then you can stop.” She said, giving his hand a firm squeeze, smiling.

“Then I can stop.” He repeated, and she could detect the lack of excitement in his voice. It was to be expected, so she didn't hold it against him at all. She ran her hand along his chest, gently patting it with her hand. 

“If you keep letting me help you, we can do this.” She said, and his smile became more sincere, and he nodded.

“How can I possibly object when you're so willing to help me?” He sighed softly, pouring more into his glass, keeping close to her.

“We can do this together. I'm your wife, of course I'll help you.” She said, leaning on the counter beside him.

“I never expected to have a true wife. I thought you'd be cold and uncaring. I didn't even think the drinking would matter. I thought you'd prefer it since I didn't touch you.”

“Why was it that you wouldn't touch me? Isn't alcohol supposed to make one more... Bold?”

“Well, I've been drinking a long time. It doesn't make me act that way. Even when I'm drunk on half a bottle I never think of disrespecting your wishes. Which, at the time, I believed were for me to stay far away. I wasn't going to push you, even if I am an old drunk.” He said, and she wrapped her arms around him, leaning into his chest.

“Thank you for respecting me. Even if it wasn't what I wanted. No one has ever had respect for me, as you've noticed.” She said, and he nodded, glaring slightly.

“Well, I can't make them respect you, truthfully. But I can make at least one stop disrespecting you.” He said, and she just nodded, leaning on his chest. “Would you care to go upstairs? Standing is... Less than favorable right now.”

“Of course. You should have just said.” She picked up his bottle, beginning to walk to the stairs, hearing the sound of his cane tapping behind her. He went up the stairs much more slowly than usual, and when she glanced back at him, she saw he was wincing. He'd never outright tell her of his leg pain, but that didn't mean she couldn't help. They got to the bedroom and she immediately began to work on taking her dress off and bra. She could hear him suck in a breath as she slipped one of his dress shirts on. She felt his hands on her shoulders, and he pressed close to her from behind.

“I think I like this sight more than the dress. Well, I know, actually.” He said, kissing the side of her neck gently, gathering her hair to one side. She smiled and turned around, looking up at him. 

“Get yourself comfortable. It's just me, no need for your Mr. Gold suit.” She teased, and he chuckled deeply, beginning to shed his clothes. She made her way over to the bed, hopping up on it.

“My Mr. Gold suit? Is that what you call it?”

“Yes. Because there's Mr. Gold, and he's ruthless and cold. But then there's Michael. He's sweet and caring.” She said, and he smiled slightly, pulling a pair of his silk pants on, a simple t-shirt joining.

“Yes, I suppose you're right. But the question is which do you prefer?” He asked, arching an eyebrow as he limped over, sitting down beside her.

“I don't prefer. Both are my husband.” She said, and he looked at her in genuine surprise, the corner of his mouth just lifting up. 

“Two husbands must be very tiring.” He teased, and she giggled, sitting up and scooting down to near his leg. He watched her with interest, looking as though he was holding his breath.

“I don't mind. It keeps it interesting.” She said, gently bringing her hands to where his injury laid. He flinched slightly, his leg twitching away, and she looked up at him. “Did I hurt you?”

“No... Just what are you doing?”

“Trying to help you. I can tell it's hurting badly tonight. Probably from the lack of comfort you've had this last week.” She said, lifting his leg over her lap, gently massaging. She could feel the tension in him and see it in his face, but it slowly faded. He relaxed back against the propped up pillows, a content sigh escaping his lips. “Does it hurt at all?”

“Not you touching. My leg never really healed properly. For some reason I can't remember why.” He said, his eyebrows knitting in thought as he tried to search the information out. She continued her gentle touch, watching as he took a sip of his drink, still thinking. They remained in comfortable silence, him drinking and her massaging, and she shifted her own legs so they were bunched under her. His shirt rode up her legs, leaving her creamy thighs exposed. His eyes trailed down her body, and he swallowed hard, looking up at her face. She licked her lips slightly, not paying attention, and she heard a soft sound. She looked up at his face, seeing his cheeks were gradually turning red, and he quickly took a long sip of his drink. She tilted her head, then her eyes fell on his crotch. His pants had become tented, his hand trying desperately to tug his shirt over the evident erection.

“I'm sorry.” He whispered, but he cried out in pleasure as she reached her hand out, cupping him. She could barely do so from just how rigid it was, and she smiled up at him. Her own panties were quickly becoming damp at the sight of him, and she climbed up slightly, another hand on his chest.

“You're not drunk, right?”

“No. Not drunk.” He said quickly, looking up at her with hooded eyes. She nodded, pulling his pants down slowly, his member looming into view. She tugged them down his body, and he didn't move an inch, watching her. She pulled her panties off, leaning up and kissing him deeply, straddling his hips. She pulled his shirt off, sitting up straight on him, his length laying against her slit. She curiously ground her hips down against the shaft, making him hiss out in pleasure. “Belle.” He rasped out, and she giggled, slowly unbuttoning her shirt. He watched her with bated breath, smiling as she pulled her shirt off.

“I really missed you, Michael.” She spoke in a breathy whisper, reaching into the nightstand. She pulled out the foil package, sliding down so she was over his thighs. She rolled the condom onto his hard length, leaning up and kissing him deeply as she climbed back over. She lined the tip up with her wet entrance, looking down in his eyes. She held his eye contact as she slowly sank down on his cock, the gaze breaking as her head fell back, a gasp escaping her. It took her a brief moment of remaining still to get used to the fullness, her tightness filled to the brim with Michael. They were finally one again.

She slowly lifted up, coming back down on him, moaning out softly, her hands braced on his chest. His own hands came up to rest on her hips, his strong arms assisting with her motions. She had craved this. She had longed for the feeling of him being inside her, his length stretching her small body. Though she was snug, it was perfect for her. It allowed her to completely feel him, her vice like grip making him moan out softly. 

She looked down in his eyes as her hips moved along him, and she gasped as he firmly tugged her. He pulled her down so she was on his chest, her breasts pressing against him. Her hand came up to tangle in his hair as she adjusted to the new angle, his cock hitting her in a different way. She leaned in and kissed him deeply, feeling his hips begin to push up against her own. It was a romantic position, and yet she felt so sexy. She had never felt that way before, and it was unsurprising that he was the one to make her feel that way.

She moaned out as they rocked against each other, his arms wrapped tightly around her. She was pressed as closely to him as possible, and she couldn't move even if she wanted to due to his strong arms. That was the last thing on her mind however, and she was content to be as close to him as possible. She kissed him deeply and passionately, making a noise into his mouth as he delivered a harder thrust into her. It prompted her to begin to move her hips faster, her rhythm becoming uneven due to inexperience. She managed to get it under control within a minute or two, and she was grinding smoothly again.

“Oh, Michael.” She whispered softly, one of his hands coming up to hold her head so it remained close to his, their lips barely an inch apart. “I... I think I'm almost there.” She added, and he nodded, his hand slipping between them and beginning to press her clit. It was just the push she needed, and she was surprised at just how well he knew her body despite the brevity of their marriage. She cried his name into his lips as her orgasm hit, rocking her body like a hurricane, making her tighten around him. He had clearly been just barely hanging on, because he groaned out and pushed in as deep as possible, and she knew he had finished. They rocked out their orgasms together, and though she knew his lasted far less time, he continued to thrust it out for the duration of her own. 

He sank back into the bed, his chest rising and falling as he tried to regain composure. She didn't move from her place atop him, leaving him tucked inside her for just a moment. After a minute, she slowly came off, panting out herself, her lungs almost aching as she pulled the condom off and discarded it. She sank into his waiting arms, her head rested on his chest. She felt a kiss on her forehead, and she moved closer to him. The room was growing colder as her body cooled down, and she was grateful for his warm body against her own. She relished in the experience of being so close to him, of not quite knowing where she ended and where he began. She felt it on an emotional level as much as she did on a physical level.

“Sweet dreams, my sweet wife. I am finally where I belong. With you.” He whispered, and she relaxed against him, her eyes drifting shut. Just as she was on the edge between dreaming and coherent thought, he murmured something to her. She was unable to make it out as she was simply too tired. She fell asleep against him, her body sinking into his more, her heart and mind finally at ease after lonely nights.


	26. A Flicker of Light

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hello everyone! Thank you for all the comments, kudos, and general support of this story! I can't believe we're approaching 100,000 words! I never thought I'd get this far. Don't worry, it's not gonna end any time soon! Enjoy this chapter!

When she awoke in the morning, she was fearful his return had been but a dream. Then she registered the arms wrapped tightly around her. His grip was almost too tight, and it was everything she wanted. His arms squeezed her so she was tightly against him, their nude bodies together like a glove. She was content to keep her head on his chest, listening to his steady breath and feeling his heartbeat. A glance at the clock told her it was far later than he normally slept, but it was a Saturday, he could afford to rest. He was clearly exhausted, and she didn't have the heart or desire to wake him.

She realized with amusement and discomfort that she was becoming rather needy of him. She wasn't sure if that came with the territory of marriage and affection. She was sure that was the case. It wasn't as if she was desperate and starved of his attention. It was more a matter of wanting to he with him, possibly more than was expected. Wanting to be with him at all was more than he had expected. And surely, her need was justified by him being away in jail for the last week, they were newlyweds after all, and she had just grown used to his company, only to have it ripped from her.

She wanted this whole matter with Keith resolved. She would do anything she could so ensure he left them alone. Truthfully, she was afraid. Not of threats and muscled friends. She was fearful of Michael being injured. She knew he was stronger than he looked, and with his cane, he was a force to be reckoned with. But no matter how strong his wiry arms were compared to their appearance, he would he no match should Keith and his two friends gang up on them. She couldn't imagine how she would cope if he was hurt. Separately they were fairly strong, but together, they were a team. While they didn't have the physical strength, they were both far smarter. They could beat him with tact.

She was barely afraid of her own possible attack, though perhaps she should have been. Keith had no problem with behaving disrespectfully, who was to say he wouldn't harm her physically. She stood very little chance against him alone, and if he brought his friends, she would be in a world of trouble. But if she was with Michael, she knew he would do anything to protect her. She was torn between crumbling and asking for that protection, and staying away from him during the day to keep him safe. Then again, she knew he wouldn't want that. 

She knew he wanted to be the protector, but she just couldn't allow him to be reckless to do it. She had a gut feeling that Michael was holding back in this little battle. He was Michael Gold, and he was known for handling things swiftly and often viciously. Surely he could end this the same way. She was almost certain he was holding back because of her. Her husband was capable of dark things, that much she knew. His ability to be so sinister didn't dull her feelings for him. She would embrace both sides of him, the vicious and dark deal maker, and the loving, caring husband. He was a blend of dark and light, and she thought of herself as mostly light, so surely she could brighten him.

His arms tightened more, making her gasp for breath. She turned her head, about to ask him to let up, but his eyes were closed. His eyebrows were knit and his face was twisted with worry. She couldn't move from his grip, but she managed to wiggle so she was directly at his face. His head snapped to one side, a pained whimper escaping him. He murmured the word no, his hands pressing into her hard.

“Michael, my love.” She said sweetly, taking his face in her hands, holding his head still. One hand stroked his slightly sweaty hair back, tucking it behind his ear. She leaned down and kissed his forehead, looking at him with concern. “Michael, I'm here love. It's okay, I'm right with you. Me, Belle.” She said, her voice raising, his eyes snapping open. He sat up slightly, pushing her up with him as his arms remained.

“Belle.” He breathed out, pulling her into a crushing hug, leaning his face into her neck. She could feel him press a chaste his to her skin, his hands moving along her back. She stroked his hair gently, beginning to hum soothingly. He eventually lifted his head, looking at her a bit sheepishly. “I am sorry...”

“Don't be sorry, please don't be. What happened?” She asked, her hand resting on his cheek, and he swallowed hard, looking down.

“It's this nightmare I have. Each time, I lose my son all over.” He said quietly, and she leaned forward, resting her head in the crook of his neck.

“I'm so sorry Michael. I don't know how to make you feel better, but-”

“It was different this time.” He blurted out, pulling his head back enough to look down at her.

“What was different?”

“You were in the car with us.” He said, and she felt a chill creep down her spine. His voice sounded pained, and his throat bobbed as he swallowed hard. “Like before, we were hit on the passenger side. You died, too.” He said, and she took a breath, running her hand along his back. She could hear the pain in his voice, and she couldn't imagine what it must have been like to see that unfold, even if it was just a dream.

“I'm safe, I'm alright. This is real.” She said reassuringly, squeezing his hand, and he nodded.

“I don't know how I would go on if I had lost you both... Even still, part of me wishes you had met him.”

“Just part of you?” She asked, trying to keep the hurt out of her voice. Though she didn't know much about his son, she already knew she would have loved him as if he had been her own child. To hear he didn't entirely want her to have known him stung a bit.

“Yes. Just part of me. If you had known him, he would have loved you. You likely would have been in that car with us. I'd have lost you too.” He said quietly, his voice breaking near the end of his words. She nodded, finally understanding, and she took his hands gently. “I just wish it all could have been just a dream. Though he would have been very close to your age...” 

“How old would he be?”

“Nineteen.” He said, and she nodded, shifting almost uncomfortably. It was a bit awkward to think his son would have been just two years younger than her. Still, she found she didn't mind that he was so much older than her. In the future it would matter more as she would lose him sooner, but for now, it wasn't important. She would rather share twenty or thirty years with him than share fifty with someone she didn't love.

Love. It was strange how easily that word slipped out when her thoughts turned to Michael. Even if she didn't say it, even if she couldn't say it, she loved him. She would stand by that man through anything, even if his problems became her own. She didn't mind, she was willing to help him become the best version of himself. She would take the bad days because the good days made it all worth it. She realized now that she had struggled with accepting her feelings when she should have just let go.

“That bothers you.” She realized she had unintentionally grew quiet. She looked back up at him, shaking her head and opening her mouth. “No, it's quite alright. It bothers me too.”

“Excuse me? It doesn't bother me, I was just thinking.” She said, looking up at in hurt, her eyes shining. “It bothers you?” Her voice was small, and she tugged away from him, looking out the window. 

“I shouldn't have phrased it quite like that.” He laid a hand on her shoulder, and she could hear the nerves in his voice. “It simply... Makes me wonder. Just how long we have before I'm too old for you to stay.” He said, and she had never been a violent person, but she wanted to slap him across the face. She jumped up from the bed, quickly grabbing her robe to shield her nude body from him, tying it tightly around her. She let out a shaky breath, walking towards the door. “Hey, I'm sorry.”

“You don't sound sorry at all.” She snapped, turning to face him. He practically recoiled from the tone, looking at her with wide eyes. His throat bobbed as he swallowed hard, looking down a moment. 

“I didn't mean to offend you. I'm not saying it because I want it to happen. I just... Won't be viable for much longer.”

“Out of all the things in the world I care about... How old you are isn't even in the top thousand.” She said, turning on her heel and walking out. She made her way to the shower, turning the water up as hot as she could stand, staying in until it began to run cold. She stepped out, wrapping herself in one of the fluffy towels. In her haste, she had forgotten to bring her clothes with her. She walked back to the bedroom, breathing a sigh of relief as she saw he had left the room. She let her towel fall, and though she normally dressed nicely, it was a sweatpants and hair up kind of day. 

When she went downstairs, she realized Michael was nowhere to be found. It was just like him to avoid her after upsetting her, and she scoffed slightly. Looking around, she took in the fact that the house was filthy. She decided to attempt to clean. Cleaning kept her busy and kept her from dwelling on the issue. It took awhile to find cleaning supplies, but she found them stowed away in a small closet. As she passed Michael's office, she saw the door was shut. She wondered if he had locked himself away inside. 

She proceeded with her cleaning. She dusted the entire house, including his multiple rooms that were packed with various objects. Some of the items were odd, some were mundane. His spare rooms closely resembled his shop, and it was a bit ridiculous that someone could have that much stuff. She was in no mood to spend time attempting to sift through the items, so she went back to the main floor, focusing on what was seen. Not that they would ever have company who wasn't trying to extort Michael. 

A glance outside told her his car was still there, so that told her that he was indeed locked inside his office. She almost wanted to turn music up loud to distract him from whatever it was he was doing. Instead of acting in spite, she acted much more maturely, instead just humming softly to herself. Perhaps she was being hypersensitive again, but it was insulting that he would think her to be so shallow. They had fallen back into their past routine of him upsetting her and her shunning him. 

Now that they were married, the avoidance was a lot more difficult. He could exit his office at any moment and attempt conversation with her. She could no longer hide from him at her home. She could no longer take the necessary time to think things through. She now had to just hope he would leave her be until she was ready to face him. Then again, she wouldn't object to an apology, and if might have helped her in deciding just how upset she was. If he acknowledged his mistakes, she was far more filling to forgive and forget. It showed that he was willing to try.

The day escaped her fast. She accomplished much with cleaning, the furniture finally polished and shined instead of dusty. She had no idea how to didn't suffocate in all the dust. He didn't seem to clean much himself, so she wasn't sure what he would have done without her. Wallowed in his booze and his clutter, likely. 

She heard a door open, the sound of a cane tapping unevenly on the floor. She knew what that meant and tensed, waiting for him to come to her. She slowly turned, looking over at him. She had never seen him look so ruffled. His sleeves had no cufflinks, his waist coat was unbuttoned, and his tie was loose and unclipped. His eyes were bloodshot, and he held a glass in his hand, amber liquid filling it. She folded her arms across her chest.

“Are you drunk, Michael?” She asked, and he slowly shook his head, taking a few steps closer to her. He set the glass down with a clank, facing her directly.

“I don't think you're using me, or that you'll change your mind because I get older. It's just sometimes one can't readily turn off the fear and... Anxiety over something.” His voice was quiet, his hand gripping his cane tightly as he leaned on it. She felt her heart swell. She was so proud of him in that moment. He had taken responsibility in record time, and it wasn't necessary to drag it out of him. He had come to her, and admitted his wrongdoing.

“I understand you get nervous at times. I don't want to punish you for that. And I'm happy you tell me about your fears. Just keep in mind how that can make me feel. It makes me feel like you have no faith in me.” She said softly, resting her hands over his hand, squeezing gently as she looked up at him. He looked down at her hands, his eyebrows knit slightly, his tongue poked out through his lips. 

“I need to tell you something. I'm unsure of how to say it.” He said, looking up at her, his other hand resting over the tangle of limbs over his cane. She tilted her head, looking up at him, a pang of nerves running through her. 

“Just say it. That's the best way.” She said, and he swallowed hard, nodding. He took a breath, looking away to look up, focused on a point on the wall. He took a moment, seemingly to collect himself, before he looked back down at her. 

“What I wanted to say... Has been on my mind for a long time. Longer than normal, perhaps. I've wanted to tell you so many times.”

“Michael, just say it. Whatever it is, I'm sure I won't react badly.” His eyebrows shot up, and he let out an airy chuckle. The silence was thick and painful as he waited, and he looked deeply into her eyes, stepping closer.

“I love you. I love you so much, that sometimes I don't even know how to cope with it.” He said, and her heart soared, her eyes widening. He was looking at her nervously, yet not expectantly. He wasn't expecting her to return it. She pulled her hands free, watching fear rush over his face, but it didn't last. She pressed her lips to his own firmly, wrapping her arms around his neck and pushing in close. His cane clattered as he dropped it, kissing her back deeply, his arms around her, his fingertips gripping her desperately. She pulled back, one hand gently running through his hair, a bright smile on her face.

“Oh, Michael...” Tears stung her eyes, and she couldn't help but notice his weren't exactly dry. “I love you, too.” She said sincerely, watching his mouth fall open. His lips formed a smile, and he tugged her into another kiss. In that moment, everything else in the world was nugatory. Michael was all that mattered for time being. He wasn't the one she saw coming, that was for sure. Some would say he had no heart, that he couldn't possibly love something. But she had seen him shine, and he had the biggest heart out of anyone she knew. Loving him and being loved by him was both the easiest and the hardest thing she had ever done. Easy because the love flowed naturally, difficult because it was overwhelming to love someone so intensely.

“I will never stop being surprised that you love me too. But I will also never stop cherishing it.” He said, his face close to her own, his forehead leaned against her's. “Sometimes I can't even look at you. You are... So flawless.” He said softly, and her hands gripped his shirt tightly, completely unwilling to let him go.

“No one has ever talked to me the way you do. No one has ever said anything like that to me.”

“You may have never heard them before. But you've always deserved them.” He said, and she leaned into his chest, listening to his too fast heartbeat. She couldn't look in his eyes at the moment, because she saw the future whenever she did. For the time being, she wanted to live in this moment. Tomorrow was unknown, but this moment was as perfect as Michael was to her.

“You're not just drunk, are you?” She teased, and he chuckled softly, and she could feel him shake his head.

“The only thing I am drunk off is you, sweetheart.” He said, and she pulled away then, bending and picking his cane up, placing it in his hand. “What are you doing?”

“Taking you upstairs.” She said lowly, grabbing his other hand and beginning to walk, listening to the unusually rapid clicks of his cane as he followed. She wore a smirk on her face as she looked back at him, seeing he looked more awed than anything. She hoped he never stopped being so grateful for her love. She led him up the stairs and straight to the bedroom, immediately pushing his suit coat off, making quick work of the waistcoat. His hand slid up the back of her t-shirt, and she pulled it off, watching as he looked down.

“You know, you look radiant even in sweatpants.” He said, unclipping her hair and letting it fall in waves over her shoulder. She couldn't help but smile, considering it was one of the few occasions she had ever wore them to begin with.

“You would too.” She said, unbuttoning his shirt and pulling it from his pants, and he shook his head.

“I don't even own any. Just pajamas... Though I don't wear those now that you're here.” He said, his lip quirking up into a small smirk, his hands sliding the waistband of her pants down. She giggled softly, giving him a sweet albeit sloppy kiss, pulling back slightly. Her hand unbuckled his belt, pulling it through the loops and tossing it down. Once his pants were gone, he pushed her down into the bed, covering her body with his as they kissed. Despite her lack of clothes, she was burning up, and she felt utter relief as he pulled her panties off, immediately beginning to touch her. She cried out softly, her eyes hooded in pleasure. He knew exactly how to touch her, and he was confident in it after a few weeks of practice. She came in an embarrassingly short amount of time, her lips parted as she sighed his name.

“Your hands are like... Magic.” She said softly, and he smirked, kissing the side of her neck, small nibbles accompanying the hot path. He pulled back to kiss her lips again, his tongue slipping inside her mouth smoothly. He kissed her languidly, giving her body a few moments to come back together. His member was hard against her thigh and it was driving her to insanity, to feel yet to not have, so she gently pulled away. He panted as he looked down at her, a question in his eyes. “I need you Michael.” He nodded, pulling his boxers down and kicking them away, taking a condom and preparing himself.

She almost wasn't prepared for the ecstasy she felt when he finally pushed his length inside her. He looked her deep in the eyes as he did, and she wrapped her arms around him, pulling his lithe body against her. His full weight on her felt amazing, and one hand tangled in his soft hair, stroking gently. He began to slowly push in and out of her, his eyes never leaving her own. He fit so perfectly within her, the fit snug but never painful. His shifted slightly, angling his hips, making her cry out.

He brought her to climax twice within several minutes, something she hadn't known possible. The pleasure was almost too much, and as he shuddered atop her, she held him close, stroking his hair gently as he rocked his own climax out. She sank back in the bed, her parts tingling and her body spent. He discarded the condom, falling beside her, taking her into his arms. He was breathing just as heavy as she, his hand running along her body gently. 

“You just set a whole new standard for lovemaking.” She said softly, and he laughed, kissing her on the head gently. 

“I'm only too happy to do so. There's nothing like impressing you.” He said, stifling a yawn as he laid back, clutching her.

“You do a lot. Just because it's new to me doesn't mean I don't know when it's amazing.” She complimented, her hand resting on his stomach gently. He pulled the blankets up over them, keeping her warm as her body and the room cooled. “I love you.”

“Yes... And I love you too.” He said, smiling as he looked down at her, and she returned it. She closed her eyes against him, drifting off quickly. She could hear him murmur goodnight, and she felt him tug her closer. She was too exhausted to react, instead falling asleep against his chest, and all at once, she was whole.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> There! He finally said it! I know many of you have been waiting a long time for those three words. Also, I apologize if the smut is becoming too frequent. I can do fade to blacks if that is preferred.


	27. Safety

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hello everyone! I hope I haven't kept you waiting for too long. I have been sick for the past few days, but I wanted to get this out now for you lovely people. This chapter comes with a warning! At the near beginning of the chapter, there is a brief scene involving sexual harassment. It's very mild and brief, but I want to be cautious just in case that is triggering or uncomfortable for anyone. If you do not want to read that, once you get to the part with dialogue (you'll know when the actual harassment is about to start) skip through until you see the word 'sweetheart.' Control+F would be useful as I made sure it was the first instance it was used in the chapter. Other than that, please enjoy the chapter! As always kudos and reviews are very much adored and appreciated!

Life when you realized how loved you were was different. No longer was she plagued by questioning thoughts, and no longer did she have to wonder just what she meant. Michael Gold loved her, and that was that. She was happy, so happy that she forgot that they still had their fair share of problems. She had been optimistic, hoping that Keith would realize he was fighting a losing battle and leave them alone. And for a few days, it certainly seemed that way. They took breakfast together, met for lunch, and made love in the night. For four precious days, life was wonderful. 

She found that Michael drank far less when she paid him more attention and provided distractions. It was both easy and enjoyable to distract him. Sometimes it came in the form of making love in various places, but even when it didn’t, Michael was content to listen to her. She would tell him of the books she was reading in the library he provided, and perhaps he enjoyed her joy and enthusiasm so much he didn't feel the need to drink. She would tell him of her childhood, of all her hopes and dreams, and he would listen intently. She would prompt him for stories, and he would share tales of trips to various countries. He had seen so much of the world and she almost envied him.

Happiness was often fleeting, and as she sat at her desk at work, she couldn't help but feel dread. There was no way things could be going so well without some sort of catch. She had no scheduled appointments for the day, something that wasn't unusual, so the morning was spent texting Michael at the shop. He was in a cheerful mood, something she attributed to the lazy but beyond pleasant sex they had had that morning. She wanted to push aside her concerns and just enjoy life, but something was holding her back.

She heard the door open, quickly finishing her latest message to Michael. She pressed send as she heard the footsteps approach her. She lifted her head with a smile, though it quickly faded as Keith stood before her, a scowl plastered on his face. She nonchalantly pulled Michael's number up on her phone, ready to press it at any moment. He stole wore his neck brace, though his bruises had faded.

“Your husband came for the rent yesterday.” He said, leaning his hands on the counter, pushing into her space slightly. She did her best not to recoil, because Michael was one click and one short drive away. She knew he would always protect her.

“Of course he did. It was rent day for everyone.” She said, unable to keep herself from speaking with a bit of bite. She felt a braveness she had never known emerging these days. It was almost as if it had always been there and simply needed to be brought out.

“He gave me an eviction notice because I couldn't pay his raise in it!” He growled, and she sighed, looking up at him tiredly.

“His contracts are clear. It's said he's within his rights to if payments are missed. You signed it.”

“This is all because of you acting like some slut. Don't go to a bar if you don't want to be hit on. Now because of you, I won't have a place to live!” He shouted, and she couldn't help but scoff, glaring up at him. 

“It's your own fault! Michael wouldn't have beat you up if you hadn't done what you did. You should learn to respect people.” She said, and he rolled his eyes, slamming his fist down on the counter. She knew she shouldn't have been baiting him. She had no clue what he was capable of, and she didn't want to find out. 

“You don't deserve respect. You're just a gold digging whore. He may not see it, but I do. The whole town does.” He snarled, and she couldn't help but feel a stab of hurt at his words, because it was so far from the truth that it pained her.

“Get out.” She said lowly, but he didn't budge, still glaring down at her. “I said get out! I'll call him right now.” She threatened, jumping back as he he pushed the small gate open and entered the back of the counter.

“It's a three minute drive from his shop to here. That's all the time I need.” He his tone was low and dark, and as he advanced upon her, she slowly backed up, realizing with disdain that she had forgotten her cell phone. He backed her up until she was against the wall, and she tried to shove him back, but he pinned her hand to it. “I should teach you a little lesson. How to be a good girl.” 

“Get off me right now!” She demanded, trying to keep the shake out of her voice. His hand slid down her side slowly, sliding down to her behind, and she felt bile rise up in her throat. He leaned down, kissing her neck slowly, his hand pawing at her breast.

“You are way to hot for him. What's he almost fifty? You need a real fuck.” He murmured, his hand moving down to the hem of her skirt. Luckily, her skirt was too stiff and tight to properly push up her hips, so it gave her a precious few seconds as he fumbled with the button. She lifted her knee and drove it into his crotch hard, making him fall back and groan in pain. It gave her the time to slide by, and she grabbed her desk chair, pushing it into him and knocking him down. She grabbed her phone and bag, rushing out, her heels clicking rapidly. She dialed the number that was open. He answered on the first ring.

“Hey, sweetheart, are-”

“Michael, will you p-please come get me? I just left work and I'm running towards the shop, you'll see me.” She said, tears burning her eyes as she continued on. She heard the sound of a cane tapping and keys jingling, a bell dinging.

“I'm on my way. Keep coming towards me, I'll watch out for you.” He said, and she was thankful he didn't ask what had happened, because she knew she wouldn't be able to speak without crying. People stared at her as she ran, but no one tried to stop her. She could hear his car start and tires skid, and she felt a sense of déjà vu. It was just like the last time Keith had attacked her. Her heel snapped under her, and she could barely move on, so she leaned up against a building.

“I'm outside M-Modern Fashions. Please hurry.” She said, her hand falling down as she clicked the hang up button. She leaned her head back, wrapping her arms around herself. She was freezing from the cold air, her teeth chattering and her hands shaking. She knew it wasn't the only reason she shook. 

Within a minute and a half, she watched the black Cadillac come rushing through, passing other cars in the single lane, yet no one dared beep, because they knew that car. His tires skidded as he roughly pulled up to the curb, flinging his door open, rushing over to her surprisingly fast, dropping his cane as he reached her. She flung herself into his arms, and they wrapped around her, pulling her in tightly. People were watching as casually as they could, looking in with interest as they wondered what the town's oddest couple was up to. The mayor was in the group, and she wore a small, almost satisfied smirk.

“Oh, Michael...” She whispered into his chest, her hands squeezing him tightly. He gently pulled back, keeping his hands on her, leaning down to her level.

“What happened?” His voice was frantic, and he quickly pulled his jacket off, wrapping it around her icy body. His hand came up to cup her jaw, his eyebrows knit in concern. “You're freezing.” He murmured, his hand gripping her arm to tug her closer.

“Can w-we go home? I want to talk about it there.” She said, and had she been less traumatized and more thoughtful, she would have realized it was the first time his house was their home. He nodded immediately, bending and picking his cane up, wrapping his arm around her and helping her to the car, both limping. He helped her into the passenger seat, going so far as to buckle her in and close the door. He quickly crossed to his side, climbing in through the still ajar door. He closed it, turning the heat up to high. He pulled away from the curb, driving home in silence. He held her hand tightly, and she clung to it with both of her own.

He pulled up outside of the house, and he made his way out, pulling her door open and helping her out. His arm went back around her shoulder as he guided her in, her hand gently gripping the back of his waistcoat. He unlocked the door and nudged her inside, closing the door behind him. She was the one who reached out to lock it. She vaguely registered being pulled into the living room and sat down on the couch. He pulled her heels off, pulling a blanket out and wrapping her up in it. She tucked her legs under her, making herself as small as she could. Both his arms came around her as he pulled her onto his chest, her hands feebly pushing out from the blanket to grip him.

“It was Keith.” She could barely say his name without feeling physically ill. The incident wasn't nearly as horrifying as it potentially could have been, and yet she was still terrified. She couldn't imagine what she would have been like had it progressed. That was something she didn't want to think about. She just wanted to be thankful she escaped. Even her bravery couldn't lessen the horrible feeling in her stomach.

“What did he do, my darling?” He asked tensely, leaning his chin atop her head, and she relished the way she was able to tuck herself into his body. He felt so much bigger than her, and she felt so safe.

“He t-threatened me because of the eviction notice you gave him. He was blaming me because I went to the bar.” She said shakily, pushing her head into his chest more. His body went rigid, and his grip on her tightened. “He pressed me up against the wall... And he started to touch me.” She said, glancing up at his face. She could see him swallow hard as he looked up at the ceiling, taking a deep breath with closed eyes.

“Did he... Ah...”

“No. No, he didn't get that far.” She could hear him sigh in obvious relief, clutching her tighter.

“Are you hurt at all?” He asked, pressing his lips to her forehead, gripping her so tightly it was borderline suffocating. She cherished it, leaning into him feebly, comforted by the fact that he was there. The pads of his thumbs ran across her cheeks, and it was then she realized they were damp with tears that refused to be kept in. 

“I know I'm being too sensitive... I just keep thinking about what could have happened.” She admitted, and he shook his head, stroking the side of her face.

“You couldn't be too sensitive in this situation. What happened to you was horrible, and disgusting. And he's going to pay for it. Clearly money isn't the way.” He said, a dark look flashing across his face. It was unsettling how quickly the love in his eyes could be masked by the intense, almost mad urge for revenge. 

“Michael, retaliation isn't the answer here.” She spoke softly, her voice still weak. She wanted to lay over his heart, but she couldn't bring herself to look away from him. 

“He hurt you, Isabel. Violated you. I will not stand for this. No one touches my wife and gets away with it.” He nearly snarled, the storm raging in his deep eyes. She gently stroked his cheek, more tears stinging in her eyes. It would be easy to let him do his worst. She wouldn't have to do anything. But the easy thing often wasn't the right thing. Even if Keith was a dark and evil person, she couldn't let Michael succumb to those urges. Mixing darkness with darkness only served to create a deeper darkness.

“You can't hurt him. You're better than this. You've already done enough to him.”

“After what he did to you, you want me to let it stand? Do you understand what would happen to me if he hurt you?” He asked, and she felt a brief flicker of anger, opening her mouth to speak. “He would take away my world.” He finished, and she softened, her hands running along his chest slowly, a sigh on her face. She leaned in and pressed a soft kiss to his lips, feeling him lean in slightly.

“I'm safe now. With you. I know you'll protect me. I'm not scared of him if we're a team. We have what he doesn't. We have love.” She said, taking his hand in her own and squeezing it firmly. His lips tugged up in a small smile, and he sighed slightly.

“Something has to be done to keep him away from you. Perhaps Dove could begin accompanying you.”

“I don't want a bodyguard.” She said with a soft sigh, and he fell silent, and she could see the gears in his head turning. Finally she saw the idea on his face, but he looked down, seeming truly shy for the first time in weeks.

“I've an idea.” His tongue darted out to wet his lower lip, and he took a breath. “You could come and work at the shop. You'd be safe with me, but it wouldn't be like having a bodyguard. It would be taking part in your husband's business, in your business.” She was almost shocked at the suggestion. Though they had grown very close, the idea of him wanting to spend the entire day with her wouldn't even have crossed her mind.

“So we'd spend the whole day together?” She asked, tilting her head as she looked up at him. 

“Yes. I understand it would be a bit much for you, it was a foolish suggestion. I'll figure something else out.” He said quickly, waving his hand dismissively. 

“No! No, I don't think it's foolish. I would like that. I like your shop, anyways. There are so many things, so many stories.” She said, and he looked at her in awe, shaking his head slightly.

“Well then, you can start as soon as you're ready.” He said, and she leaned in, pecking him on the nose.

“He doesn't even really need a receptionist. We're lucky to have one appointment a day. He could do without for a few weeks, until he finds a replacement. Besides, he would have fired me long ago if he wasn't scared of you.” She said, and he chuckled softly, stroking his hand along her arm.

“Then it's settled. Mr. Gold's Pawn Shop will be the Gold's from now on.” He said, leaning in and kissing her, as if solidifying their new arrangement. 

They spent the rest of the day as they would spend many more, together and content. He didn't bring up the thirst for revenge again, so she assumed he no longer intended to follow through. He surprised her by making dinner, and by drinking less than he normally would. His progress was making her sincerely happy, and it showed in the way she jumped him and rode him until both were spent. They laid in silence as they both recovered, his arms around her as she shook with pleasure. His hair stuck to the side of his head with sweat, and the air in the room was thick with the scent of their lovemaking.

“I cannot get enough of you. You take me so high when I'm inside you.” He said lowly, his tone and surprising language almost enough to make her try for another round. She bit her lip, tracking idyllic circles on his chest. She tilted her head up and kissed him, gently biting his lip instead as she pulled away, making him groan in the back of his throat. “Careful dearest. Don't want to tempt a monster.”

“You're not a monster. Monsters don't love the way you do.” She said softly, stroking his cheek gently. Despite his words, he just looked sleepy and languid as he usually did post-sex. She appreciated that he never tried to sleep right away, always staying up and speaking with her. He chuckled warmly, twirling a strand of her hair around his finger.

“You're such a delight.”

“Delight? You make it sound like I'm candy or something.” She said with a giggle, watching his eyebrow arch.

“Are you saying you are not?” He asked with a teasing smirk. “You're certainly sweet enough.” He purred, and she rolled her eyes, laying her cheek on his chest. He dropped a kiss to her head, making her smile happily. They laid in silence awhile, and just when she thought he was sleeping, she glanced up to see eyes looking down at her. 

“You're clearly tired. Go to sleep.” She said with a yawn, pushing his hair behind his ear gently. He shook his head, his fingertips running along her arm, sending goosebumps along her flesh.

“I can't. Not until you do.” He said, and she arched an eyebrow.

“Why?”

“Why, because you talk in your sleep, of course.” He said, and she could just make out his lips lifting in a smirk.

“I do not!”

“Yes, you do. I think I am the one with more knowledge on you sleeping.” He said, and she felt her cheeks sting red.

“Why do you have to be awake for that?”

“Because it's endearing, and fascinating.” He said, and her frown turned to a small smile, and she pressed a tender kiss to his chest.

“What do I say?” She was sincerely curious. She wanted to know if she was saying embarrassing things as she slumbered.

“I can't say. Those words are my secrets. And I intend to keep them.”

“At least tell me it's nothing embarrassing.” She said, feeling herself falling deeper in love, and she was already drowning. The fact that this man could cherish words said even in deep sleep meant so much to her.

“Nothing embarrassing. I will tell you that the first time I heard you say I love you, you were asleep.” He said, and she looked up at him on surprise, perching herself up in interest.

“Then why were you so surprised when I told you?”

“Because I had believed it impossible that those words would be directed at me.” She felt her heart break at his words, and her arms tightened around his thin frame, holding him close.

“They have only ever been words for you. There's never been anyone else, and there never will be.” She said, his own arms tightening as he pulled her into his warm arms more securely. “I love you, Michael.”

“Yes... Yes.” He said softly, his voice tender and strained. “And I love you too.” He whispered, kissing the top of her forehead gently. “Goodnight, sweetheart.” He said, and she snuggled into his chest more, his beating chest the most comfortable pillow she could dream up.

“Goodnight.” She yawned the word out, her eyes drooping shut. She was exhausted after the stressful start to the day, and the pleasurable ending made her even more fatigued. A good night of sleep was deserved, and she soon slipped in peace.


	28. Slander

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I am so very sorry, guys! It's been over a month since I've updated. I have no good excuse, I just simply have not had the muse for cursed Rumbelle. I've really just been having luck writing them in the Enchanted Forest, so I've been working on my newer fic The Key. I'm hoping to get back into the swing of writing here. I spoke briefly with a few of you on this matter, but I would like to know if there is any interest in a few scenes rewritten from Michael's POV. If so, I could add them to the 'Dealing With Extras' series. Just let me know if that interests you, and feel free to ask for a certain chapter from him, and I'll see if I can manage it! Other than that, enjoy the chapter! Some of the dialogue is taken from the show or slightly paraphrased, so I of course do not take credit for them. The smut in this one is a bit different than usual in the sense that it's more raw and rough, so I'm sorry if rougher sex isn't your thing! Sometimes I just can't control those two ;)

Getting into the car with Michael and driving straight past the animal hospital was almost surreal. She had worked there as long as she could remember, and it was strange to think her days would no longer consist of sitting behind a desk doing very little work. It was bittersweet, but when she looked over at Michael's serious face as he drove, she knew it was a wonderful thing. He glanced over, a small smirk coming onto his face.

“Any particular reason why you can't keep your eyes off me, darling?” She giggled softly, reaching over to gently pat his arm.

“You're very handsome when you drive.” Her tone was coy and he scoffed, giving her a look of complete disbelief, but his smile grew slightly.

“You've the oddest taste in men.” He pulled into his space at the shop, parking the car and turning the engine off. She shrugged, getting out of the car and meeting him on the other side, looping her arm through his.

“You may think it's odd, but you also think coffee should be taken black, so your opinion is wrong.” She teased, and he chuckled lowly, looking down at her as they walked to the door.

“It should be. If you fill it with cream and sugar, are you really drinking coffee?” He asked, and she gently bumped his hip, surprised when he playfully bumped her back. It was amazing to discover this long hidden side to him, a side that no one else knew. No one would believe that the infamous Mr. Gold could play in a way that wasn't cutting sarcasm. He unlocked the door, guiding her inside the shop, flipping the sign to 'open.' She pulled free from his arm, looking around as she always did. Each time she was in the shop, she saw something new and fascinating.

The books on the shelf in the corner caught her eye, and she immediately made her way over. She completely disregarded the fact that she was wearing a short skirt, sitting down in front of the shelf. She could feel Michael watching her with barely contained interest, and she began to skim the titles. They had always caught her eye, but she had never taken the time to look through them. They were old and worn, and she wanted them all.

She could hear uneven steps and the click of his cane as he made his way over to her. She didn't move, simply continued reading through the names and authors. She felt his leg press against her from behind, and she tried to contain the shiver that ran through her from the proximity. He was quiet for a moment, but she could smell his cologne, and it was just as distracting as his voice.

“See anything you like?” He asked lowly, and she tilted her head back, looking up at him. She couldn't help but blush, nodding.

“A few things.”

“Such as?” He asked with a smirk, running a hand through her hair slowly.

“Well, look at all these books.” She gestured, watching his eyes flash slightly, before he nodded professionally.

“It's quite the collection. Are you interested?”

“There's always a price with you. What is it?” She asked with a smirk, and he pretended to think, before nodding thoughtfully.

“A kiss will do.” He said, and she nodded, getting up on her knees, watching as he sucked in a breath. She grabbed hold of his tie and slowly dragged him down so he was bent, and she pressed her lips against his slowly. He made a soft noise in the back of his throat, his hand coming up to cup the side of her face. She curiously yet gently nipped down on his lip, making him groan out. He pulled back slowly, a filthy smirk on his face.

“Wherever did you learn that?” He asked teasingly, stroking the side of her face gently. She shrugged, fighting the urge to look away. She knew she had no reason to be shy around him anymore. She had experienced nearly everything with him, and she truly was comfortable. Shyness was silly at this point, but he still made her stomach flip and flutter with butterflies.

“Just trying new things...”

“I'm only too happy to be a test subject.” He said, giving her one last long kiss, pulling back and straightening up. He held a hand out to assist her, and the bell dinged.

“Oh, my god. What the hell, Gold?” came the voice of Regina, and she realized with horror just what their position implied. She sheepishly moved herself away to reveal there was nothing indecent going on, allowing Michael to help her to her feet. She appreciated the gesture, given how his leg wobbled beneath him. She couldn't help but move behind him slightly, her hand coming up to rest on his shoulder as she eyed the mayor curiously.

“Mayor Mills! Whatever brings you to our shop?” Michael asked, his voice taking on its usual edge, the near sarcastic and cold tone he used when speaking to anyone but her. The act was back up, and just like that, Mr. Gold was the one beside her. Not that she objected. She loved Mr. Gold just the same.

“I'm here because I need your help. I would like to speak in private.” She said, stepping closer to where they stood, looking as if she expected her to scurry off immediately. She did go to move, but Michael lightly gripped her arm, shaking his head.

“No. Whatever you have to say, my wife can hear too.” She felt her heart swell slightly. It was touching that he was willing to allow her involvement in his business.

“Fine. I need a child. And I need your help.” Isabel's' eyes widened, and she looked at Regina in shock. Was she actually propositioning him in front of her?

“Well, I'm flattered, but uninterested. In case you didn't know, I'm happily married.” He held his hand up, gesturing to the gold band on it. She stood tall beside him, determined to stake her claim on her husband, moving closer to him with a fierce look on her face. Regina just rolled her eyes, disgust coming over her face.

“Not like that. I mean I want to adopt one.” She scoffed and Isabel glanced up at Michael, trying to read his face.

“And you think I can assist you in that.”

“I've been on the phone with adoption agencies all morning. I've called dozens. The wait list is absurd. I can't wait that long.” Beneath the normal tone she used was slight desperation, and Isabel felt a slight tug in her heart. For the first time, she felt for Regina. Though she had power, she had no friends or family. She understood how that could be very lonely, for she too had very few friends. She wasn’t lonely anymore thanks to Michael being her friend and love, but as far as she knew the mayor had no love. “But you, you're an expert at snaking your way through rules and guidelines and coming out on top. If anyone can find me a baby and fast, it's you.” She said, and Isabel glanced up at Michael, seeing he was relatively impassive. 

“You wish to adopt.” He said with a slight chuckle, an eyebrow arching.

“I just told you that. Don't look so surprised.” She said, looking sincerely offended, and he shook his head.

“I'm not. I'm sure you'll make... well, a mother of some sort.” He shrugged slightly, and she gently elbowed him.

“Michael.” She said simply, and he sighed, the sarcastic edge falling from his face.

“Listen to your little wife, Gold. Can you help me or not?” She was getting slightly angry, and Michael nodded.

“Of course. But you have to ask yourself if it's something you're ready for.”

“It's something I need.”

“That's not quite the same thing.” He said, shaking his head slightly. Regina regarded him coolly, her lips set in a fine line. “I'll get you a child.” He concluded, and Regina nodded, turning on her heel to leave. “But I'm not quite sure that's helping you. When you become a parent, everything changes. You must put your child first. No matter what, they have to come first.” He said, and she could hear the solemn edge in his voice, and she gently ran her hand across his back, her touch discreet. Regina just continued walking, closing the door behind her roughly. Michael was quiet for a moment, staring down at the floor a moment, his gaze fixed on nothing. She tilted his chin up.

“Michael, even if Bae is no longer with us, you're still an amazing father.” She spoke softly, her fingers gently running across his slightly stubbly cheek. He smiled softly, his eyebrows knit.

“I don't feel like an amazing one. An amazing one would have died in his place."

“That's not something you could control. You can't control how other people behave, no matter how hard you try. It was the other driver's fault, not yours.” She cupped his face in both her hands, leaning in close to him. “I can't imagine anyone being a better father than you.” She said, and he looked down slightly, his hand running along her hip.

“Perhaps someday, you won't have to imagine it.” His voice was a hopeful whisper, and she smiled, kissing his lips. They had discussed it briefly before, before the love between them had blossomed. Now it seemed even more viable, and she realized it was something she wanted soon. Not as hurriedly as Regina, but within the next two or three years. When it was right.

“I won't have to. I'll get to see it firsthand.” She decided, and he nodded right away.

“I'm not quite ready. For another child. But I do want one with you. I meant that when I said it. I just need a few more years. I can't give a child what they deserve yet.”

“That's what I was thinking anyways. We have time.” She said, pushing close to him and leaning on his chest, her arm loosely around his waist. His own came around her's, and she nuzzled her head close to him, listening to his heartbeat. She hummed softly, peeking up at him, seeing he looked thoughtful.

“I can't quite pinpoint it... But your humming reminds me of something.” He mused, and she tilted her head, looking up at him.

“It's just humming. Lots of people do it.”

“Yes, but it was always vexing to me. But yours is pleasant.” He said, and she rolled her eyes, leaning her face back in.

“You're just trying to be charming.” She said, and he let out a warm chuckle, his chest rumbling.

“You've caught me. I'm reminiscent of Prince Charming, clearly.” The sarcasm was evident in his voice.

“I would never want Prince Charming. He isn't my type. I would choose someone intelligent and mysterious over a Prince. Anyone born into the right family can be a Prince. It takes someone truly special to be enthralling and deep. You're not a Prince, but I wouldn't want you to be one.” She gently brushed some of his hair out of his face, making him smile slightly.

“Do you write these things down, or is it all said from the heart?” He asked, and she giggled, hitting his arm.

“The heart!” She shook her head slightly, leaning in and pecking his lips. “Do you always have to be so sarcastic?”

“It's simply a part of my deep and mysterious layers. I have to keep you on your toes. I wouldn't want to bore you.” He said, and she toyed with his tie, looking in his eyes as she did, watching his darken.

“You couldn't. I've never met someone as interesting as you. You have so many stories, so many things to say. I would be content to listen to you for days.” 

“Did you want something? You're being awfully sweet and flattering today. Are you trying to charm me into doing something? Because it's working.” He said, and she puckered her lips, pretending to think.

“There is one thing I want you to do. It might be hard for you.”

“I will do anything for you.”

“I want you to be happy.” She said softly, watching his mouth fall open in shock. He looked at her as if he didn't know what to say, and she had rendered him speechless yet again. He swallowed hard, tucking her hair behind her ear.

“My darling Belle... I am truly as happy as I can be. There's still... pain. But I am happy with you. Do you doubt that?” He asked, tilting his head to the side, looking as if he was frightened to hear the answer.

“Yes and no. I suppose it's just a silly insecurity. I want to see you happy, but I worry I won't be able to keep you that way.” He took her by the shoulders, pulling her so she was face to face with him, crouching to her level.

“Listen to me. You have made me beyond happy. I will continue to be happy, because I have your love, which is one of the most precious things in the world. I know... I know my issues might keep you from being happy, but if you're happy, I will be.” He said sincerely, as if drilling the words into her so they would stick.

“I'm happy because you admit they're issues, and you want to work through them. And we will do it as we will do everything from now on. Together.” She said, and he nodded, leaning in and kissing her, his palms on her neck as his fingers reached the sides of her jaws. It was a comfortable way to be touched, and she lost track of how long they had kissed for. They must have looked like teenagers in the back of a car, going at it with no regard to who would see, but she didn't care. 

Eventually his leg grew tired and she sensed it from the way he leaned into her more. As a result she had her back to the counter, his body heavy on her own. He had covered her neck in kisses and bites and even the occasional hickey, and she found she didn't care who saw. Part of her wanted people to see, because to her they were symbols of their commitment and love. She could feel him hard against her stomach, yet neither ever moved to go further or to the back. They were on the same page with what they wanted, and for the time being, it was what they had.

“Woah, get it Gold.” Ruby said with a smirk, walking in and stepping up to the counter. Isabel gasped and pulled back, looking at her in shock. Michael seemed far less scandalized, simply smirking lazily.

“I was attempting to, before you came along. Perhaps I need to start flipping the sign.” He said, slowly pulling off her, standing with his front pressed to the counter. She blushed furiously, and he snickered as he adjusted her hair to hide her neck.

“You really should.” Ruby made a face, but gave her a saucy smile. “I'm always sorry to interrupt a good makeout session, but I have some news. News you won't like.” Isabel sighed. She was trying so hard just to be happy with Michael, and yet there always seemed to be something else standing in the way.

“I can leave you two to talk.” Michael said, beginning to walk into the back office.

“Ah... You should hear this too, Mr. Gold.” Ruby said slowly, and he turned back with interest, coming back to the counter.

“Very well, dearie. What is it?”

“Well, it's that Keith guy. He's been saying a lot of stuff lately, about you, Izzy. He said you guys... hooked up. I know it isn't true, because I know you're not that type of girl. But... people are buying it.” Both girls immediately looked to Michael, who stood quietly, his face emotionless, though his hand gripped the counter. For a moment, she was terrified he would think it true. A shudder of disgust crept up her spine at the thought of doing anything more than glaring at Keith. 

“It's not true. I would never do that to Michael, and especially not with that horrid man.” She looked up at him, a wave of relief hitting as he curled his arm around her waist possessively, tugging her into his side.

“Well then, perhaps he needs a reminder of who the one who has your hand is.” His vow was low and threatening, and it made her shiver in secondhand fear. (And, shameful and inappropriate as it was, a small sliver of lust.)

“Michael...”

“Don't Michael me. I won't stand for this slander.” His voice was a growl, and while she didn’t fear him, she could see why everyone feared Mr. Gold, but she also had a feeling no one saw him quite like this. He was feral.

“I'm doing my best to tell anyone who says it it isn't true. Some people know it isn’t but... well, they say it isn't because no one would be stupid enough to... to cheat on him.” Isabel swallowed hard as she looked up at him, but she knew he would never hurt her. She laid her hand on his arm, gently stroking it.

“I would think,” he began slowly, his voice a tone she had heard the night he beat Keith, “that no one would be stupid enough to spread lies about my wife, either. Apparently today is just full of surprises.” He scoffed, his body rigid, and not in the way she came to enjoy.

“I just wanted to tell you guys. So you heard it from me, and not from someone spreading it.”

“Thank you, Ruby. I really appreciate you telling us. You're a good friend. I'll call you soon to get together.” She smiled softly, and the taller girl returned it, sharing a brief nod with Michael before walking out. A moment of tense silence passed, and she began to fidget slightly. She would never do that to Michael, but she also knew how deep his insecurities ran when it came to adultery. She was terrified he would convince himself it was true, that his tortured mind would warp it into belief. “M-Michael? Please say something...”

“I know it isn't true. They seem to be if ignoring the fact that I had to pick you up off the streets while you were in tears. I'm just thinking is all.” She wrapped her arm around his waist, leaning her head into his chest. She was relieved to feel his strong arm wrap around her shoulder, pulling her close. It was then that she noticed people as they walked by the shop. They would look towards it and begin to whisper amongst themselves. Clearly more than just a few people believed it, and she lowered her eyes in shame. “I will not stand for people branding my wife a whore.” Another snarl on the last word.

“I don't want to be treated like that. Like I'm an awful person...”

“I shouldn't have made that deal with you. I'm sorry, this is all my-”

“Excuse me? You shouldn't have made that deal with me? This isn't about a deal, Michael! It hasn't been just a deal in a long time! I would have married you without it, and a deal didn't make me fall in love with you! Forget the stupid deal, you're mine and you're mine because I want you to be! It is not your fault and it is not my fault this town is full of judgemental people. Anyone who judges me for love does not deserve my time. And honestly, they're just plain stupid for believing I would do this. They all saw me.” She took a breath as she finished her rant, exhaling deeply. She chanced a glance at him and saw his lips parted, his eyes dark as he stared at her. He stepped closer to her, her back against the counter and his body ghosting her own.

“You are mine, too.” His tone sent a shiver up her spine, and she took hold of his tie, dragging him down closer. “I belong to you. You belong to me. Yes?” 

“Yes. Yes.” Her voice was breathy yet certain, and she put a hand over his ass to pull his hips into her own, moaning from the hard length that she could feel pressed into her. 

“What if I took you right here, showed the town just who we belong to?” His smirk was the filthiest she had ever seen, and she couldn't help but return, his finger running over her lips in response. She sucked his finger into her mouth, looking in his eyes.

“It's hard to see in from all your junk anyways. Flip the sign.”

“All my junk? I should spank you for that.” He stalked off to the door, his cane forgotten. Well, that was something she had never thought of before. And something she desperately wanted. Before she could dwell on it, he was pushing her skirt up, so she began to unzip his pants. She cried out as he rubbed along her panties, letting out a snicker.

“What?”

“You're far too wet for me to not be inside you.” 

“Then hurry up and get inside me.”

He tore her panties off, pulling his engorged cock out the rest of the way. She shifted against the counter in anticipation, looking up at him with hooded eyes, pushing her legs apart for him, leaning back. She whimpered as he ran it along her slit, her head hanging back as he coated it in her wetness. Her entire body shifted back as he plunged inside her, a sound akin to a scream escaping her. The teasing bastard stilled completely, and she looked up at him, whining.

“Michael, please... I need... I need...”

“Say it.”

“I need y-you to fuck me.” She almost covered her mouth as the vulgar word escaped her lips, looking up at him in surprise. His eyes darkened further, and he groaned softly.

“Anything for my darling wife.” He began to thrust his hips, making her eyes roll back on her head. He had never taken her this roughly, and she nearly cursed him for withholding this from her. She could do that later. For now she wanted to lose herself in the feeling of him driving into her. She gripped his jacket and tie tightly, and he snatched her hand off, lacing his fingers through her own and holding it. He pressed it into the counter, and she rolled her hips down to meet his thrust. She did nothing to restrain her sounds, soft moans escaping her, and when the pressure began to build, she grew louder.

“Michael! I'm close!” He nodded, beginning to pound into her harder, and she squeezed his hand, her eyes falling shut.

“No! Open your eyes! I want to look into them as I bring you to pleasure.” She moaned at the way he barked it out, opening her eyes quickly, looking directly into his. One particularly sharp thrust was all it took and she was falling over the edge, screaming his name out. Three more hard thrusts and he groaned her name out, and she nearly gasped as she felt sudden warmth inside her. His thrusts continued for a few more moments before he leaned his head against her shoulder, soft kisses peppering across her skin. Her knees gave out beneath her, but he was quick enough to catch her, holding her up. “Belle... I love you so much. You know that, right?”

“I know it with all my heart. And I love you more than anything.” She leaned into him as her body stopped shaking, and he helped her stand, slipping out of her. She could feel wetness on her thigh, and she realized with a pleasured shudder it was a combination of both of them. He handed her a paper towel, and she slowly wiped her inner thigh, completely comfortable around him even in such an awkward moment. She tucked his soft cock back into his boxers and zipped his pants up, fixing his belt. He tugged her skirt down and straightened her blouse out, using his cane to pick her tattered panties up.

“Michael! You ruined them! I loved that pair!” 

“I'll buy you a thousand pairs like them.” He wore an almost goofy smile on his face, and she felt a surge of pride that she could bring that to his normally serious face. She rolled her eyes, nuzzling his chest more.

“Your leg must be killing you.”

“It's not very content after all the running yesterday and after that little treat.” She wordlessly took his hand and led him into the back. They sank down onto the cot, and he pulled her so she sat in between his legs, her back pressed to his front. She gently began to rub his leg, her head lolled back. Strong arms wrapped around her, pulling her into a firm grip.

“I think I'll go on the pill.” She felt him nod against her, running his hand along her slowly.

“I'm sorry I forgot. It's almost embarrassing, considering...” He trailed off, and she heard a crinkle as he tossed several condoms onto the bed beside them. “Considering I was prepared. I just was so caught up...”

“It's okay... I liked it like that. Easier to just get right down to it.” She yawned softly, her hand still working his leg, having mastered just the right touch after several curses of pain in the past weeks.

“Agreed. But no more until you're on the pill.” She just nodded, leaning back into him more.

“Do you think anyone saw?” She was suddenly embarrassed, but like him she had been caught up. She didn't even want to think about how horrible it would have been to make eye contact with Dr. Hopper in the middle of sex. Or worse, the mayor. Even worse still, her father.

“It's a slow time of the day. Lots of people are at work. I won't lie to you, several people did walk by. They were on the other side of the street and only just glanced, I doubt they could even see. We're married, people aren't oblivious to what that means.”

“You're right... I just... It was somewhat fun. The danger of being caught. But I know if we actually had been caught, I would have felt differently.”

“Anyone who got a good enough glimpse to realize what was going on would have left immediately. No one wants to see me like that.” He let out a chuckle, running his fingers through her hair, making her smile as she felt soft kisses on her skin. She giggled as his tongue flicked out unexpectedly, her other hand over his own.

“I'm glad we started working together. I really love it in this shop.”

“I love having you here. The most precious thing in my life, by my side throughout a normally slow day.” 

“Now if Keith tries to do anything, he'll have to face you. I know he's scared of you, even if he's bothering me. He never does anything if you're around.” He ran his thumb across her lips, then along her jaw and the side of her face.

“Because he knows I won't hesitate to rip his useless body apart.” There was a bite in his tone, and she nearly shuddered, pulling his arms around her tighter to seek his body's comfort. She knew he was serious.

“Michael... This isn't the best pillow talk we've ever had.” She shifted slightly, and he chuckled, pressing his lips to her head.

“I'm sorry sweetheart.” He kissed her head once more, and she leaned her head to the side. She was finally safe, and she knew she could rely on Michael to keep her safe. She just hoped he didn't go too far in his endeavor to protect her. He was a protective man, perhaps overly so, and that didn't bode well for anyone who tried to harm what he loved. For the moment she was content to lay with him and ignore any potential issues they could face in the future.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> ... I was going to name this chapter "Keith is a Douche and this Town is Full of Gullible Cursed Sheep" but it seemed a bit too long. Thanks for reading! I am astounded to see that we are approaching three hundred kudos, which is absolutely insane to me, and about two hundred and eighty more than I ever expected! Thank you everyone who leaves kudos, and comments, you make me very happy!


	29. Do It All For Love

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hello guys. I'm very sorry that it has been nearly two months since I updated. I have received a few messages asking about when I was going to update, so I apologize for being so slow. I will NEVER abandon this story, there's plenty more ahead for these two, fear not. If anyone ever has any longer questions, feel free to message me on tumblr, at 'thedarkonesdearie.' If anyone is interested, feel free to send Michael or Belle questions as well, just address it "DWF Belle/Michael" and I will answer it from their POV. And wow! We have went way past 300, which is what I thought would be the highest possible number of kudos. Thank you everyone who comments and leaves a kudos, it really helps me out. 
> 
> TRIGGER WARNING: There is a brief verbal discussion that alludes to the previous threat of rape, but it's very minor compared to that scene a few chapters ago.

There wasn't much to do in Storybrooke, and of the few things that were available, Isabel had done them a thousand times. But that didn't mean she wasn't having a wonderful time with Ruby at the small, old bowling alley. Ruby was far better at bowling and she inwardly wondered if it would be possible for Michael to with his leg. Whenever they played chess or monopoly or (strip) poker, he always beat her. She wanted to be the one to smirk in triumph for once.

“Izzy, it's your turn!” Ruby said in playful exasperation, and Isabel blushed, nodding as she picked the ball up. “I know that look. Thinking about the dear hubby?”

“Of course. A girl thinks about her husband often. Well, provided she has a good one.”

“We haven't really talked about that in awhile. But you seem really happy, and he does too. I know at first it was... a deal. But what about now. Do you love him? Really love him?” She turned to face Ruby, a bright smile forming on her face at the question.

“I love him more than I know how to explain. It's been such a short time, but I do. It's almost like we were fated to be together. Do... do you, uh, believe in soulmates?” She was slightly embarrassed at asking the question. It was a wonderful and romantic concept, but she felt as though she sounded silly saying it aloud. But Ruby was the one person in town who had truly accepted her and Michael, and she knew she could trust her with anything.

“I don't know. I never really did... But if there's such thing, I'd say you two have it. I mean, it's almost like a fairy tale, two people meeting and falling in love even though their marriage is arranged. Almost like you two were meant to be together.” Isabel smiled, fidgeting with the bowling ball.

“We, ah, we discussed children, recently. Last week, actually. We'd talked about it before, but never seriously.” Ruby's eyes went wide, and she rushed closer, so their conversation could resume in hushed whispers. The bowling alley was mostly empty, but you never knew who was listening, especially in this nosy little town. Many people passionately hated her husband and would very much enjoy airing his personal business.

“What about children? Does he want them? I mean... he's kinda old.” Isabel glared at her, huffing slightly. “Not that that's wrong or anything! Just... how much time do you think you'd wait?”

“We said when it was right. But I was thinking a few years so everything can happen when we're ready.” Ruby nodded, seeming satisfied with that answer. 

“What's he like in bed?”

“Ruby!” She blushed brightly, the taller girl smirking, and they both giggled. Sex was not a new topic for them, but it was always Ruby who was talking about it. For as long as she could remember, it had been that way. But since she'd fallen in love with Michael, things had started changing. 

“Well, I've heard older guys are way better, but I've never been with one more than three or so years older. Come on, you have to tell me. I'd tell you.” 

“Ah... Michael is... obviously I don't have anything to compare him to other than books, but... to be frank, he's a God.” Ruby's eyes went wide and her smirk returned, both girls dissolving into giggles. “And it happens a lot. Twice a day at least.”

“I could see that. I mean, he's so confident and fearsome, and he walks like he's the top dog around here. It's only right he'd be a beast in the sack.” She nudged her with her elbow, and Isabel was sure she'd never blushed so bright. But Michael made her feel like a Goddess, and Ruby was her best friend, so there was nothing wrong with feeling confident in their sex life. It felt good to tell someone other than her husband how wonderful he was. “But twice a day? Damn. That's impressive.”

“He's very, ah, thorough. As he is with everything, but he's very intense in bed. He's always focused on me feeling good first and foremost.”

“Keep him forever. That's a rare gift, one I haven't found in all these years. Don't let him go, ever.” 

“Even if he was horrible and selfish I'm not sure I would. He's wonderful in all other aspects too.” The girls had moved their conversation to the table at their lane, Ruby listening intently.

“It's kinda ridiculous... Everyone has been so concerned about you. People are talking, saying how worried they are, worried that he's hurting you or something. I don't know where that rumor came from... Probably from Keith.” Isabel could only roll her eyes at that, and Ruby shared the gesture. “I'll admit I was sceptical. Then I saw the way you two looked at each other, mainly how he looked at you. Like, I've only ever seen Gold look smug, bored, or angry. But he looks at you like you were the only good thing in the world, like he'd love you for thousands of years. That's why whenever someone talks shit, I'm always first to defend you. Some other people do too, you're not entirely alone.”

“Really? Who else?”

“Graham is always quick to dispel rumors and talk in your favor. Whenever someone says anything he says it's disrespectful of them to say, and that he knows if anyone can handle Gold, it's you. Whenever they talk about, you know, him hurting you, Graham says he's seen nothing but affection. Oh, Dr. Hopper says good things too. He says from his standpoint you look happier and more confident. You have a few fans.” She smiled warmly, and Isabel looked down, touched to learn that maybe she wasn't so alone. “Mary Margaret is sweet too. She just says those who love each other should be together.”

“It's really nice to hear all this. Lately I've felt like it's Michael and I against the town. And I've been so happy with him, but I've hated that that's in the back of my mind. Honestly, the only thing that's been bothering me is the Keith situation. I just want to stop him, I'm worried he'll hurt other girls.”

“Wait, you didn't hear what happened with him? I thought the hubby would have said something about it.” Ruby ached a well manicured brow, and Isabel tilted her head in confusion.

“What exactly happened? Did Michael do something?”

“Well, maybe. No one can really prove if he did or didn't do anything. Keith went missing a few days ago. How haven't you heard?”

“I've just been in the shop with Michael, people rarely, if ever, come in. And if they do come in, they certainly aren't coming in to gossip with their landlord and his wife.” Isabel felt a sinking feeling in her stomach. Michael has said he wouldn't hurt Keith in retaliation, she distinctly remembered a promise not long ago. She would feel beyond guilty of he did something terrible on her behalf, even if it was towards one of the most vile men in town. But her husband didn't lie to her. He wouldn't promise something only to do it regardless.

“True. Well, he was officially confirmed as missing yesterday. Granny's was buzzing with gossip about it last night, everyone is talking about it. But, obviously, you aren't one they'd talk to about it. People are being discreet when they say it, but pretty much everyone says Mr. Gold did it. I mean, who else would? Keith may be a scumbag, but he's pretty tough, Gold is the only one he cowers to. Graham says there's not even a trace of evidence that he was taken or killed, just the fact that he's gone.”

“Michael had promised he wouldn't...”

“Izzy. You really expected he would keep that promise? Add together the club, the vet's office, and now, the rumors he's been spreading. That's a lot of shit, and we all know Mr. Gold is protective of you. And we also know he doesn't let people get away with wronging him. And that extends to you now too.” Isabel chewed her lower lip, her eyebrows knit as her mind raced with various conclusions. “Talk to him. I'm all bowled out anyways, I'll drop you off at your house.”

Both girls stood, making their way out to Ruby's little red car. They chatted idly, though Isabel couldn't shake the worry away. Once she said her goodbye to Ruby, she got out of the car and entered the house. It was completely quiet inside, and she began to creep through, a bit nervously. Michael's car was in the driveway, so why was he not greeting her? 

She knocked once on his office door before pushing it open, and the sight she walked into made her smile fondly. Michael had fallen asleep at his desk, hunched over a small stack of paperwork she assumed were contracts for loans or properties. The smile faded a bit as she saw the scotch on his left, but it was still an adorable sight. She moved the bottle and glass aside, gently brushing his hair back before smirking mischievously. She moved stealthily into the living room to grab her Polaroid camera, and she snapped a photo of him hunched at his desk. She giggled as she looked at the print, and his nose crinkled, his eyes opening as he looked up.

“Hey.” His voice was thick with a long yawn as he slowly sat up, wincing at the audible sound his back made from the motion. “How long was I asleep here for?”

“I'm not sure. I only got home about five minutes ago.” She walked around to his side of the desk, leaning against it, one hand beginning to thread through his hair slowly. He tilted his head to the side, and she shivered from the low groan that escaped his lips as her nails scraped the nape of his neck.

“And how was bowling? Is Miss Lucas well?” He tugged her waist forward, and she followed his guidance, and he pulled her into his lap. His arm went around her waist securely, the other on the side of her thigh. Though she enjoyed the sexual bliss they found in one another, moments like the one they were sharing were just as blissful. She tucked herself into him before she answered, one hand resting on his tie, the other around his shoulder and back in his hair.

“It was fun, but Ruby is far better at bowling than I am. I just embarrassed myself.”

“Lots of gutter balls, then?” She nodded with a laugh, and he chuckled as well, his arm tightening around her. “Well, you and I will go, and you'll bowl me out of town. It's nearly impossible for me to shift my leg correctly to do it, so all I can use is my arm. You'll have the advantage.”

“No, no, I know you. You don't let anything stop you. You always find a way. You'd probably make up some new foolproof strategy for bowling.” 

“Or I would let you win simply to see the joy on your face and listen to you gloat.”

“Michael!” They both laughed, and she rolled her eyes. She ignored the questions that burned her throat, though her mouth opened to speak. He noticed, of course.

“Something the matter?”

“Ruby told me something interesting today.”

“Yes, and I'm nearly certain that it would qualify as illegal, if it's interesting and from her.” She gave him a dry look, fighting off a small smile as he smirked wryly.

“No, it was gossip.” She pulled back to watch his face, trying to detect even the slightest reaction. “About Keith.”

“Oh, yes? What about him?”

“He's gone missing.” His eyes glittered as he nodded.

“It would appear he has.”

“Michael, tell me what you did to him. I promise I won't get angry or start a fight, I just want to know.”

“I haven't done anything, dearest.” She glared slightly, pulling his hand off her waist and climbing off his lap. She folded her arms, making him flinch back under her glare.

“I'm your wife. It isn't fair for you to keep secrets, especially in this situation. It shouldn't be your choice what happens with him. You're not the one he assaulted.”

“Yes, the one he assaulted is my wife, which is just even greater of a reason to do something! If I don't protect you, what kind of message does that send to the rest of the town? That it's alright to touch you, or any other woman in this town for that matter, against your will? That Mr. Gold doesn't care about his wife and will just sit aside and let her be pushed around and hurt? He's been telling half the town you wanted him too, you want that as your reputation, as our reputation? Our marriage is no farce, don't let him make it such. There was absolutely no way I was going to let him get away with any of this, and you should have known that. That's not what I do.” She felt tears sting her eyes. He had completely forgotten his promise of not harming the man. Either that or he just had not cared about their conversation in the first place. He had only said what she wanted to hear.

She shook her head, sniffling slightly. “What you don't do, Michael, is respect your wife's wishes.” She quickly wiped a tear away before she turned on her heel and walked out, her shoes clicking loudly on the hardwood floor. 

“Isabel! Wait, that isn't true! You know I do. What happened to not starting a fight?”

“You lied to my face.” She shook her head, walking right up to her bedroom. Not their bedroom, but the bedroom he has given her back when he thought she would shun his body. Always so quick to assume. She pulled her suitcase down from the top of the empty closet before bringing it into their bedroom. She packed only enough for one night. She wasn't leaving him, and the notion was ridiculous. She just needed a night alone. And, perhaps he needed a bit of a fright. 

“B-Belle? No, I'm sorry, I didn't think it was that important, please.” His voice was strained, but he didn't touch her. He made no move to try and halt her movements or control them, no move to keep her in place. Part of her almost wished he would stop her from putting clothes in, because she didn't want to. “You... You don't have to leave. I will. I know things with your father are strained... And you have your library here, you can take the house, I'll-”

“I'm not leaving you!” He jumped at the volume of her voice, looking between her and the bag in confusion. “I just need a night away, I need to think. You really hurt me, Michael. You hurt a man in my name when there were other ways to handle this. Ways we could have done together. And now, please, stop being so sweet and compliant.” She sighed, closing the bag and walking past him. 

“D-Do you need me to drop you off somewhere?” He sounded terrified, and she felt horrible, but she needed to think things through, and her husband was far too distracting. If she stayed, she'd forgive him within half an hour and let it slide. She already let the drinking slide, and she had been very patient with him. He should have known better than to keep it from her. She had been beyond supportive of him in the past months, and if she was to be honest, that was what hurt the most. She was worthy of trust, she just didn't understand why he didn't see it that way.

“Granny's.” He nodded, going to step aside, but he swayed slightly, a hand bracing on the wall. She sighed, walking over and taking him around the waist, leading him over to the bed.

“How much have you had to drink?”

“I'm not sure... Enough that I can't drive you. I'll call Dove, and he'll bring you.” She just nodded, and he dialed the number and relayed the instructions. Once he hung up the phone, she tugged at her skirt.

“What have you done with him?” Her voice was quiet, and he wouldn't look at her, remaining completely silent. “Is he dead?”

“Dead? No, no he's not dead. I knew you would never forgive me for that.”

“Oh, so what you're saying is you were perfectly aware of the fact that you were doing wrong? You knew you were going to hurt me! You k-knew the whole time, and yet you still did it, as if you could hide it from me! What else have you been hiding?” His mouth fell open, his eyebrows knitting, and he slowly approached her, his gaze sad and face weary. He looked his age.

“Isabel... I wasn't doing it to hurt you. I wanted to protect you. I was just trying to keep you safe, so he couldn't harm you again. I can't be by your side every second of every day, what if he was there when I wasn't? I don't know what I would do if something happened to you.”

“I trusted you to support me if anything happened. And I can take care of myself, Michael.” He flinched again, either from the way she said his name or from the words before. “What I don't understand is why you couldn't talk to me about this, about your plan.” She walked over to the bay window, sitting on the sill and looking out, her eyes burning with tears. How horrible of a person was she to be upset at him hiding something when someone was possibly hurt?

“Belle... I knew you wouldn't approve of what I did. But I wanted to do it. He hurt you. You don't understand what it's like. To see your wife frantically limping down the street in one heel. Or feel her collapse into your arms sobbing because she's terrified and you weren't there to protect her. Or have to see her face stained with tears because she's genuinely afraid of a scumbag who won't respect her.” She refused to look at him, even when his voice shook. If she looked in his eyes, she would forgive him. She knew what he did made perfect sense to him. They had much in common, but both had a vastly different sense of justice.

“I said nothing when you evicted him. I wouldn't approve of whatever you did, but maybe if you had just talked to him...”

“That's naive. That's not how that man works, that's-”

“Don't you dare call me naive, Michael Richard Gold!” She couldn't help but shout as she stood, turning to him with fire in her eyes.

“I'm not calling you naive! I'm calling that statement naive! You like to see the best in people sometimes. Maybe that's why you've even stayed with me... But there is no good in him, he wishes to hurt you in the most disgusting way possible. You can be angry at me all you want, you can scream and leave me... But I will not regret saving you from the fate he had in store. We both know what he was trying to do that day, Belle.” With his words, the weight of what had happened sunk in even deeper than before, and along with it came the crushing realization that Michael was right. What he did, while wrong, was perhaps the one thing that was keeping her safe from that. Keith was a deeply sick man, and for whatever reason the law wasn't on their side.

Her hands shook and her knees buckled beneath her, sending her into a heap on the floor. “Sweetheart!” He rushed over to her, dropping to his knees despite the sickening pop they made upon landing. He lifted her from where she laid, wrapping arms around her to pull her close, wincing as he shifted so he was sitting. His legs were spread and she tucked herself inside them, one leg curled over his own, beginning to sob into his shirt.

“I... I have been trying so hard to pretend it didn't happen. To pretend it was a verbal argument. I pretend that if it wasn't for luck...” Her voice fell to a whisper, her body trembling, “I would have been raped that day.” Her voice cracked as she finished, leaning into him more.

“That is all I have been thinking about, in the moments I'm alone with nothing but my thoughts. I'm a lawyer. I have seen the aftermath of that happening to women firsthand. I can't let that happen to you, Belle, not when it's as preventable as locking a man in a basement.”

“It's n-not fair... That we have to take measures to prevent something like this.” He nodded in agreement and pulled her closer, leaning his chin on her head as she continued to weep against his shirt.

“I know. It's sickening, as a matter of fact. What if you hadn't made it to the phone? I will not take the chances of that happening again. I haven't killed him or hurt him that badly, I'm simply keeping him locked in a... customized prison. Regina is the reason he isn't in one himself, I know the Sheriff wants to take him in.” She pulled back to look at him in shock. She knew the mayor and her husband had their differences and their rivalry. But she had no idea it was serious enough for another woman to put her at risk of such a thing.

“Do you promise he isn't hurt?”

“No. I believe I broke several of his ribs when I beat him and I fractured his ankle. When I pushed him down the stairs. That's as far as I can tell without proper medical training. Oh... And his face is quite bruised and swollen.” She knew he had a small smirk on his face. She reminded herself of who he was talking about.

“Don't hurt him again, while he's where you're keeping him.” She pulled back to look up at him pleadingly, and he nodded.

“It was simply to get my pent up anger at him out. I'm not going to murder the man or anything, despite the fact that he deserves it for being scum.”

“Okay... Will you take me to see him?” He hesitated briefly, but then nodded slowly.

“I will. We'll go tomorrow evening. I'm keeping him in the basement of the cabin, he is chained to the wall.”

“Why do you have chains on the wall of your basement...?”

“My sex dungeon, naturally.” She stared at him a moment before bursting out into giggles, blushing.

“I'm deeply hurt you took him there before me.” She pouted, and he smirked, leaning in closer.

“Miss French.” He murmured it in a throaty voice, and she shook her head, her hands taking both her cheeks, nails pressing in lightly.

“Mrs. Gold.” She corrected, closing the distance and kissing him deeply, pulling him closer, her arms winding around his neck. He pressed her forward, but she slowly pushed his chest, and he obeyed, backing away to look at him. “I'm still angry that you lied to me and were hiding things.”

“I'm sorry... Let me prove my worth to you. I had nothing but good intentions when I did it, I swear to you. It was just something I had to do. If I didn't, I fear I would become stiflingly protective of you. The man is a piece of shit, he won't give up. Not without some... course correction. I'm sorry for lying to you. I love you, but I'm still not very good at living with you. I'm learning to be a better man for you.” She nodded, her hands stroking his cheeks, absentmindedly pinching and pressing them together, though he tolerated the silly and pointless act.

“You are trying. I know you've been alone for so long, I know it's hard to be open with me.” She pushed him so he was flat on his back, his mouth falling open as he looked up at her curiously. She straddled his stomach, watching his hair fan out along the carpet. He was so beautiful, even if he didn't think he was. “It's not really a sex dungeon, is it?” 

“Of course not.” He chuckled breathlessly, his hands resting on her thighs as he looked up at her.

“A shame.”

“Never too late to put one together.” He smirked, and she giggled, her hand laying over his heart, feeling it beat almost erratically. “I simply had Dove procure them and attach them to the wall. He goes once a day to take care of him.”

“You really don't pay Dove enough.” He chuckled, rolling his eyes.

“He does just fine. No one has ever called Mr. Gold generous, or I wouldn't qualify for the name. I would be Mr. Bronze.” She giggled again, running a hand through his hair gently.

“Oh, one more thing.”

“What is it?”

She leaned forward, shifting along his body so she was straddling his crotch in the process, and he groaned softly as she rubbed along him, looking at her with hooded eyes. She grabbed his tie and dragged his face closer. “Never, ever hide anything like this from me again, Michael.” Her voice was low, intentionally seductive, her accent caressing every single word. Gone was the shy and sexually unsure girl she had been when they met. Michael had helped her become a confident woman, and she knew exactly how to rile him up. He nodded mutely, and she leaned in and kissed him, her lips feather soft. He whined slightly as she pulled back.

“Belle.” His brogue was thick and one thousand times more sensual than a voice had any right to be. She always loved how he said the nickname he had given her. Like a prayer mixed with awe mixed with desire. It was beautiful. She kissed him again, deeply this time, and she wasted no time in reaching between them to unbuckle his belt. He groaned in surprise, and she pulled his mostly hard member out. She moved down, giving him a smile before she ran her tongue along him, licking from base to tip. He sighed out in pleasure, sitting up on his elbows. She wrapped her lips around his tip, her tongue swirling around, and he lifted a hand. It fluttered in the air a moment, unsure of where to go before it landed in her hair.

She kept eye contact with him, sucking the hypersensitive tip into her mouth, her tongue pressing and swirling, her small hands wrapping around his shaft. He groaned quietly, the sound increasing in pitch as she lowered her mouth around him more. She looked in his eyes as she bobbed along his member, his lips parted in the shape of the letter o. His gold tooth glinted slightly, and she felt a rush of wetness gather in her panties.

“Wait. Take your clothes off.” It was a command and a plea, so she sat up on her knees, slowly untying the small bow at the neck her blouse, her hand pulling the ribbon undone. He fidgeted impatiently as she undid the buttons slowly, tossing the shirt away to reveal a lacy black bra.

He growled. “Black lace? This was a planned seduction.” She giggled, wiggling out of her skirt, rolling her tights down, and removing her heels.

“My love, don't you know everyday is a planned seduction in my eyes?” She leaned in and kissed him, his hand swiftly unhooking her bra so his warm hands could take hold of her breasts. His fingers gently pinched and rubbed her nipples while she pulled off her panties. She straddled him once again, still on the floor, and took him in her hand. He was slick from her tongue, and she slowly rubbed him along her entrance, and both forms of wetness allowed him to push in with ease, both moaning softly. She wrapped her arms around his neck, one of his hands on her lower back, the other in her hair. 

She began to ride him, her eyebrows knit in pleasure as she leaned her forehead against his own. His hand on her lower back assisted her in her motions. Every so often, he pressed her down harder to grind her down on him, her clit being stimulated from the motion. He knew all the tricks with her body. The hand in her hair gave a sharp tug and she cried out in pleasure, moaning softly as he nibbled, kissed, and sucked her neck, leaving a variety of marks that she would wear proudly the following day. They moved together at an even pace for several more minutes.

All the sources of pleasure were very nearly overwhelming, and when his finger slipped between them to rub her clit with full focus, she knew she wasn't going to last long. “Michael, I-”

“I know, sweetheart, I know.” He murmured the words into her shoulder, their rhythmic rocking turning into random yet explosive thrusts. She threaded her hand through his hair, tugging roughly as she climaxed hard, his name coming from her in the form of a throaty moan. She watched his face shift as his own orgasm rocked him, and he trusted up hard, and she felt the warmth fill her.

“Michael, hold still.” She whispered softly, and he nodded slightly, stilling inside her. She could feel him pulsing inside her, and she whimpered slightly, sinking into him bonelessly. He seemed to enjoy it just as much, as his eyes fell shut to focus on the sensation. Both panted and he fell back into the rug, his arms around her. They laid in a heap with him deep inside her until he softened and they had to shift apart. She slowly climbed off him, pulling her panties back up, ignoring the discomfort. She knew he wouldn't be able to get up without help. She stood up, offering him both of her hands, helping him up slowly, grabbing him around the waist to help him to the bed. She pulled his pants off the rest of the way, resting a hand over his scarred flesh. “Are you hurt? The floor probably isn't the best place for your leg...”

“I am more than fine, sweetheart. Don't worry about me.” He smiled reassuringly, and she nodded, taking his tie and waistcoat off, and then his shirt. He chuckled as she slipped it on right away, and he reached up, pulling her hair from the collar and pulling it to one side. “Beautiful.” She smiled, kissing him quickly before quickly going to the bathroom to freshen up a bit. When she returned, the room was dark and he was laying under the sheets, and she climbed into his waiting arms. 

“I'm sorry for what I did to hurt you. Thank you for staying with me to hear me out.”

“I can tell you're sincerely sorry. That's why I stayed. I love you so much. I never want to be away from you. I know you're working on getting better.” She laid her head over his chest, but then perked slightly, seeing headlights streaming in from the driveway. “Michael! You never called Dove and told him not to come! He must have been sitting in the driveway for over two hours!”

“Oh my, looks like I've made a mistake.” He snickered loudly as she gave him a look, leaning over her to take his phone out, sending a quick message before laying back down with her. “There. Now what was I about to say... I love you too. And I don't know what I would do without you.” 

“Well, definitely not what we just did.” They shared a smile, and he closed his eyes, kissing her shoulder.

“Certainly not.” 

“Goodnight, Michael. Tomorrow will be a new day for us.” He nodded, his arm tightening around her waist.

“Goodnight, beautiful Belle.” It didn't take him very long to drift off, and once she was certain he had, she allowed herself to join him. Things weren't perfect, but she wouldn't trade what they had for anything.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I was going have this chapter finish up with Belle going to Granny's and leaving him for the night, but this fandom has had so much angst and I didn't want my first update in months to end that way. Plus, the length then was about 3,000 words, so my standard update. The very least I can do after being so horrible with working on it is give a longish chapter that ends positively, and has fluff and smut to cushion the angst. And well... floor sex is quite positive, in my opinion. Hope you liked it! See ya soon, love you guys!


	30. Compromise Moves us Along

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hey guys! I'm quite happy I was able to get a chapter for you in a timely fashion! I couldn't sleep from anxiety at 3:00AM the night before my first day of training at my new job, so I wrote the smut portion, and finished the rest up. This chapter is kind of a mix of everything, so I hope you like it. Chapter contains light sexual choking, I am sorry if that's not your thing. There's also mild violence.
> 
> NOTE: The title is inspired by the song She Will Be Loved by Maroon 5, it is not mine :)

The woods were still and silent, the branches dusted with a thin layer of snow. It was a tranquil setting, reminiscent of a photograph out of a calendar. The forest wasn't calm for long, however. A loud, extended honk sounded, sending a flock of birds fleeing from the tree they inhabited. An overly amused giggle from Isabel followed, along with a poorly hidden masculine laugh.

“Jesus, woman, you're ruining the peace and quiet of the forest.” Michael smirked at her, pulling her closer so her back was no longer pressing the steering wheel, and she moaned as his hard cock shifted to a new angle.

“You say that as if we came out here to enjoy it! You're the one who pulled me onto your lap and started to kiss my neck. You know I can't resist that, Mike.” He groaned in mock annoyance at the nickname, grabbing her hips and beginning to guide her along him as she rode him, making her triumphant smirk fade as her lips parted in a throaty moan. He leaned in to kiss her just as she leaned in to kiss him, and their noses bumped, lips landing clumsily, and they both started to laugh, smiling at each other. Isabel's heart momentarily soared. This man had gone from overly concerned about disappointing her to comfortable and relaxed enough to laugh while they made love. It was touching, yet such a little thing. But she cherished it.

They were at the cabin to see his hostage, and they had gotten sidetracked, this leading to his cock buried inside her as the Cadillac rocked, the windows steamed up. Her hands gripped his shoulders tightly, holding on as if her life depended on it.

“Don't call me Mike, Belle. You know I hate it.” The words were a murmur against her collarbone as he began to lick and suck.

“Fuck me harder, Mike.” Her giggle turned to a sharp gasp as he bit down on her soft flesh as some attempt at scolding, but he did as she requested and begin to guide her down with more force. She almost squealed in delight as his large hand wrapped around her delicate neck, the pressure firm enough to feel but gentle and calculated enough that she could speak if needed. He arched an eyebrow to verify her consent, and she gave an eager nod, managing to be grateful of his concern for safety even when he was buried inside her. It was perfectly sinful, and her hand covered his own, encouraging a light squeeze, and she felt the familiar feeling of orgasm growing closer and closer.

“S' okay, right?” His accent was thick, but she gave a slight nod, and he began to move faster. He growled like an animal as he fucked her in his car like an animal. Her moans turned to cries, and one hand grabbed his suit, the other taking his hand that wasn't around her throat, and she nearly screamed his name as her climax ripped through her. He let out a pleasured hum as her walls clenched around him, like a warm vice around a hard cock. Her eyes fell shut but a firm squeeze made the breath rush out of her and her eyes snap open. “Look at me.”

“Yes, Mr. Gold.” Her voice was higher, and he groaned, beginning to pound into her, his rhythm abandoned. She rode her orgasm, clenching herself even more to add to his pleasure, and he groaned huskily. Around half a minute passed, and she whimpered slightly from her hypersensitive parts and the continued stimulation. She leaned in and slowly dragged her tongue along his jaw, the skin below her ear, and finally his earlobe, which she bit. The action made him gasp, and she felt warmth spread within her as he grunted her name, filling her with his seed. He pumped through as he emptied himself, moaning. His hand fell from her throat to wrap around her back, and she went to lean in when he smirked naughtily. He began to swivel his hips, making his still stiff cock rotate within her, and her eyebrows knit together as her head fall back.

“M-Michael, it's so much... P-please. I... Don't stop.” She whispered the words, and he continued. His other hand palming her breast with the perfect amount of attention. She was already built up and within a minute or so she was cumming again, lifting her hips to ride him as her mind went numb with pleasure. 

She finally sank against his body, her face buried into the crook of his neck. Before she could stop herself, she felt tears gather in her eyes. She sniffled as a few fell, landing on his black jacket. He picked up on her distress immediately, lifting her head to look at her in concern, cupping her cheeks.

“Oh shit, I hurt you, didn't I? Belle, I'm so sorry, we had discussed trying that awhile ago... I should have asked.” His tone was rushed and nervous, and she shook her head with a watery eyes smile.

“They're not s-sad tears, you silly man.”

“Forgive me, what kind of tears are they?”

“Tears because I love you s-so much. And tears because you make me feel so good. I never thought it was possible to feel so good... not until I met you. I don't even just mean the orgasms... you make me so happy. I'm so lucky. I don't know if I deserve you.” He shook his head, holding her face in his strong hands, looking her right in the eye.

“Belle. I am the one who doesn't deserve you. You are so sweet, kind, loving, intelligent, and beautiful. And so many other things. I love the little things about you too. The way your eyes brighten when you smile. The shape of lips when you pout at me for stealing the remote. The way you look before you put your makeup on, the way you look when you have your makeup on, and the way you look when you forget to remove it and wake with it smudged.” She giggled softly, her hands threading through his hair, holding a handful of the wavy hair at the ends. He needed a trim, and she would do anything to distract him from going to the hair salon. “I love that you allow me to take care of you, but the fact that you don't need it. You're so strong. And I love the way you take care of me. Even if it's something small like reminding me to eat or tricking me into sitting when you know my leg is burning.” She blushed and ducked her head. He was so perceptive. “I could go on for hours. But the fact is, I love you so much, more than anything. And I most certainly do not deserve you.” 

She buried her face back into his neck, feeling lighter, and he rubbed her back slowly. She sighed in disappointment as he softened and shrank inside her gradually. She slowly lifted off the bit that was still in her. She tried to climb over the console to get to herself, her legs ending up on his lap as she righted her warm tights and panties. She ignored the slightly sticky feeling between her thighs.

“Be careful sweetheart, your heels could prove lethal.” He chuckled even as he eyed the sharp tip that was very close to his manhood, and she giggled, swinging her body around.

“I need that. I'm sorry.” She gently tucked him into his boxers (angled slightly to the left, because for some reason to mattered) and cautiously zipped his pants. She belted his pants back up, straightening his tie and dusting his shoulders. Her bubbly energy slowly faded away as she turned her gaze from Michael to his cabin. Within that cabin was the man who had harassed, assaulted, and slandered her for quite some time. For some reason she couldn't pinpoint how long, but she knew it was almost as long as she'd been with Michael.

“Hey,” he gently took her hand in his much larger one, squeezing reassuringly, “it's alright. I won't let him harm you. He's tied up, he's never going to take away your control again. You're the one in power here.” She took a deep breath and nodded, leaning over and kissing him. He reached into his coat pocket, handing her a pair of leather gloves before slipping his own on. “While it is our cabin, it's best not to have evidence on anything in the basement. I don't expect the sheriff to even care. But it's best to take precautions.” He stepped out of the car then, light snow fall landing sprinkling on his hair, and he made his way over to her side. He opened the door and offered her his hand, helping her out of the car. He led her up to the door, and she noted he was limping more heavily than usual. She wrapped her arm around his waist, leaning into him more to support him discreetly. He said nothing, but his hand squeezed her shoulder affectionately, and it was all the appreciation she needed. 

He leaned his cane up against his body as he selected the appropriate key, unlocking the door. He chanced a glance over his shoulder before walking inside with her, locking the door behind them right away. She almost expected to hear Keith the moment they entered, but the cabin was eerily silent. Her bravery wasn't enough. She pressed into Michael tightly. He lead her to a door with a padlock on it, and she gave him an incredulous look, and he smiled cheekily.

“I have to make sure no one can get in and ah, accidentally set the prisoner free!” She rolled her eyes, watching him pull a key out of his coat, inserting it and turning. He opened the door, looking at her seriously. “Stay close. I assure you, he can't hurt you. It's simply a yet another precaution.” He slowly walked down the creaking stairs, and she walked just as slowly, her lip between her pearly teeth as she watched her heels closely. “Between my leg and your heels, you and I are a recipe for broken necks.” She giggled, leaning her chin on his shoulder once they reached the bottom, her arms stretched through his, hands bent so they were on his chest. Courtesy of said heels she was able to nuzzle the back of his neck, kissing and gently nipping, and she felt him shudder in her arms. “Isabel...”

“Uh oh, no nickname?” She laughed, coming around so she was standing in front of him. She kissed him teasingly soft, pulling back just as he responded, and she smiled as she saw his eyes closed as he searched for her lips. His eyes popped open once the realization dawned on him, and he glared slightly, leaning in and stealing a kiss. She playfully turned her head away, but this only backfired, and she moaned as his lips landed on her neck. His leather clad hand cupped her cheek to hold her in place, and it was her turn to shiver, her lips parting from the feeling of the material.

“Oh my, does somebody have an interest in leather?” He smirked, and she blushed, looking down to hide her own smirk.

“It would seem so.” 

“I did tell you it was a quip when I called it a sex dungeon, correct?” She shoved his chest gently and rolled her eyes.

“You are being very inappropriate, Michael.” 

“Well, I've finally gotten you in my sex dungeon, being inappropriate is the point.” He looked almost impish, a playful spark in his eyes, his mannerisms slightly different than she was used to. And yet it was oddly still familiar.

“Michael!”

“I've thought of a new drinking game. A shot whenever you say my name in that tone.” She froze slightly, swallowing hard as she was once again reminded about their not so little problem. During the day she could ignore it, because in the daylight he was fine. But his jesting words were a slap in the face, and the hit was delivered by reality. “Uh... I'm sorry, Belle.” He spoke quietly, taking a deep breath, toying with the handle of his cane. “Now that was inappropriate... I shouldn't have said that.”

“It isn't something to joke about.” She whispered it softly, and he nodded, taking her arms gently, rubbing them.

“I'm trying, sweetheart. I really am.” She nodded, leaning up to peck his lips. 

“And I am so proud of the steps you've taken so far.” She gently brushed his hair out of his face, smiling, though it faded as surprise flit across his face.

“No one has ever been proud of me...”

“Well, I am beyond it.” She went to kiss him again when she heard a masculine groan of pain and the sound of metal rattling. She turned to face single door towards the back of the room, glancing at him, and he nodded in response. He took her hand, and together they walked. He opened the door, and she gripped his hand tighter as she saw the room was pitch black. He flicked a switch, and the room was bathed in harsh fluorescent light. Huddled in the corner in a blood spotted grey tank top was Keith. He had a blindfold over his eyes, and his hands were chained and hung above his head. His lip was busted and he had dried blood on his face and neck, blood on his hands. She looked at Michael in shock, who was regarding him with nothing but contempt.

Had she married a psychopathic sadist?

“Michael...”

“I told you. I accidentally pushed him down the stairs. And he was saying vile things, so naturally I beat him. I don't get enjoyment out of this, Belle. You don't have to look at me like it's wrong, because I will never think it's wrong to protect you. Even if someone else is dead.” He spoke lowly enough so Keith couldn't hear, and she nodded slightly. She swallowed slightly, stepping away from him and slowly making her way over to the bruised man.

“M-Mr. Gold, I said I was sorry, I…” Keith continued to murmur apologies, shrinking back, evidently anticipating the smack of a cane.

She crouched before him, ignoring Michael's protests as she untied the blindfold. He winced as the harsh let stung his eyes, blinking a few times as they adjusted. Michael was right behind her now, and she looked over Keith's swollen face. She knew he was rotten to the core, but she couldn't help but feel sorry for him. She wasn't angry with Michael, and she certainly wasn't frightened of her husband. But she didn't want him to have blood on his hands.

“Well, look who came to see me.” Keith's voice was hoarse, and his chest heaved with every word. The room was chilly, and his skin was tinged pink where it wasn't bruised. She backed off slightly as his putrid breath hit her face, the back of her head pressing against Michael's good leg. She shivered in disgust from how he was looking at her. He looked at Michael as if he was to be feared and respected. Even chained to the wall and with broken ribs, Keith looked at her like she was a piece of meat. He ran his tongue across his lip as he looked her over. She could hear Michael's leather glove creak as he made a tight fist. 

“Keith, why can't you just agree to stay away from us? If you do, Mr. Gold will let you out. None of us will have to talk about this again. There has to be more to you than... this. Forget whatever it is you have against me, and you can go.” She pleaded with him, looking at him sincerely. She wasn't offering him forgiveness or even tolerance. She wanted him as far away from her as possible. But Michael had taught her that a deal could always be struck if there were two interested parties. She was interested in peace and a respite from guilt. And he had to be interested in living.

“You done talking now? If you're gonna keep it up, at least take your top off.” Her mouth fell open, and she consciously fixed her scarf to ensure he did not get any of his sick enjoyment at her expense. He looked at her with a filthy smirk, moving his tongue up and down in a vulgar motion.

“How dare you? Have I taught you nothing? I should rip your tongue out and feed it to you!” Michael snarled, and within a split second there was the crack of a cane against a skull, and Keith was thrust into a wall. Michael grabbed him by the shirt, lifting him so their faces were inches apart, and he spoke on the most frightening tone she had ever heard him use. “Apologize to my wife. Right. Now. You're nearly pissing yourself in fear over me, you respect me like the spineless creature you are. You will show her respect! If you don't apologize, I'll-”

“Michael. Set him down. You're better than this, better than him. Don't waste your strength. You should know by now, brute force won't teach him anything. He will never respect me, or any woman for that matter. You can't make him respect me.” He didn't look away from Keith, even as fresh blood ran down his face, but his body went stiff.

“Listen to your whore, Gold.” She swallows hard, and Michael turned to her, throwing a hand up.

“Belle, he's sincerely begging to be beaten. You know I'm not one to turn down a deal with a desperate soul.” She stood up, laying her hand over the one that gripped his cane. Her other hand rested on his abdomen. 

“I have a better idea. A cleaner one. Just hear me out.” He slowly nodded, stepping away from Keith and laying a hand on her back to lead her out of earshot. “You own pretty much everything in town, right? All the shops, houses, apartments?”

“Everything but the city hall, the mayor's house, and the Madden Estate. Everything else is mine and simply rented out. But Belle, I've already evicted and fired him.”

“But you can ban him from the town, essentially. If you own it all, you can make it so he can't go anywhere. Don't you own the physical land too? So the streets and parks?”

“I do.” He was looking at her with intrigue, tilting his head to the side a bit. “If we did it your way...he would only be allowed on Regina's land, and I don't think they get on... Plus, she left town this morning, so even if she wished to help... She's not here. And Jefferson is an acquaintance of mine, and the sheriff is aware of how vile he is.” His gaze turned calculating as he glanced over his shoulder at Keith. “Why end his life... When we can destroy it.”

“He destroyed his own life. If he can't be arrested, he should be banned. I'm sure I'm not the only woman he's hurt. You don't want someone like him in your town.” He nodded, his lips slowly forming a toothy smirk, his gold tooth glinting.

“Did I ever tell you what drew me to you in the first place? It wasn't your beauty. It was the sharp intelligence I could see in your gaze. And you prove time and time again that I was right. You, my wife, are an absolute genius.” She blushed slightly, looking down, but he lifted her chin, drawing her into a slow kiss. She smiled playfully, leaning her forehead against his.

“So are you saying you didn't think I was beautiful?” His lips parted in surprise, and he chuckled lowly.

“You should consider law school. You're quite good at twisting words, when you wish it. I was in awe of you.” She giggled, giving him another quick kiss. “We shall do it your way. I'll call Dove to get him his car, and he will force him to leave town.”

“See? This is how we're supposed to do things. You're not supposed to hide them from me, compromise is the best way.” He nodded, pressing a soft kiss to her head.

“Oh, well isn't this sweet! Look at you, Gold, you're soft! This whore has made you into a woman!” Michael slowly turned to face him, and he immediately shut his mouth. Michael picked up what appeared to be Keith's shirt, pulling a small switchblade out, the blade making a loud snick as he released it. Keith's eyes widened, but Michael simply cut a long strip. He made his way over, stuffing the shirt into his mouth, securing it by tying the longer strip in the back. His protests were muffled, and Michael covered his eyes with the blindfold again. 

He took her hand without another word, leading her back to the car. They sat in silence for a few minutes, the only sound the heat blowing out from the vents. She toyed with her wedding ring, he toyed with his cane. “You're crying.” His voice was barely audible, and she let him pull her closer, her head laying on his shoulder.

“I just... I always try to see the best in people. But I can see no good in him, and I see no hope for there ever being good in him. I k-know I sound like a child... But I just hate that he's... I hate knowing there are people like that.” He shook his head, his arm wrapping around her shoulder, his other hand threading through her hair.

“Where there isn't good, you create it. You saw good in the town monster. But that doesn't mean there's even a small shred in everyone. But that isn't your fault. And what happened isn't your fault. It isn't you, Belle, it's him. If it wasn't you, it would be some other girl. He's a predator.” She nodded, tilting her chin up to look at him.

“I'm glad it's me. I know that sounds odd... Let me explain why. I'm glad it's me because I'm not alone, and because I won't allow myself to be broken.”

“You are made of iron.” He murmured the words, his hand running along her arm, his head tilted near her own. “Some people wouldn't leave the house after what happened to you. Some... some turn to...” he trailed off, and she tapped his jaw to prompt him to continue. “Some turn to destroying themselves. You're not like me Belle. You don't drown your sorrows in a bottle. You take the experience, and you fight it. Since I've met you, I've never known you to let anything define you. You define you.” She leaned up and kissed him slowly, pulling her gloves off to touch his skin.

“You know me so well. It's almost scary how well. You... You really pay attention to me. You listen to what I'm saying. Even when I was just another one of your deals, no one had ever taken me seriously like you. You've always shown me such respect. I always wanted love like in my books. But I wanted to be chosen. You chose me for me.” She pressed closer to him, her hand resting on his abdomen, moving in slow circles.

“I love you. I just wanted you. I never imagined you'd care for or love me back. But the fact that you do is one of the greatest gifts you could ever give.” She laced her fingers with his own, her finger stroking over his wedding ring.

“I love you too. Will this be okay, you think? Will he really finally be gone? Without, you know, you doing something illegal. You're much better than him, I don't want you to risk going to jail again. We'll be okay?”

“I know it will be. I'll ensure it, at any cost.”

They leaned in and kissed each other slowly, and both squeezed the other’s hand at the same moment. She didn’t know what the future held. There would be fights, there would be tears, some nights they would be so angry they slept facing away from one another. But there would also be passion, kisses, and nights spent in marital bliss. There would be a family, and they would face things as Michael and Isabel, she would never stop fighting for him.

And above all, there would be enough love to drown in.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> "It's not always rainbows and butterflies, it's compromise that moves us along."  
> \- Maroon 5


	31. Drowning

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hey guys! Really sorry this is ridiculously late. Honestly, I've been unsure of if I should continue. So I started a new fic (which you should check out, it's a no curse AU) and took a bit of a break, but my muse is back. And hey, Michael won a TEA, so that's great, thanks to whoever voted for him as best Mr. Gold! :D
> 
> If you're still reading and interested in this fic, please leave a comment so I know. Last chapter I think part of my anxiety was how little feedback I received on it, so I grew concerned people were no longer interested in this story. However, two days ago I saw that it hit 10,000 hits, which is insane to me. So I sat down, and I wrote this chapter at 3 in the morning. Please comment or leave a kudos if you like it. I have a few ideas again and think writing will flow much more smoothly from here on. But if there's any scene or prompt you'd like me to fill for this verse, let me know in a comment or on tumblr, I never did anything to celebrate the TEA. If it can fit in, I'll put it in the main story, and if not, it'll go to the extras series. Michael and Belle's story is far from over, I hope you're along for the ride. Thanks for reading, and enjoy!

It was around half past midnight when Mr. And Mrs. Gold pulled up to the 'Leaving Storybrooke' sign. They had driven in silence, and as he shut the car off and watched her prepare to leave, she felt his gloved hand grab her own. She stopped as he kept her there a moment, giving a gentle and reassuring squeeze.

“Sweetheart, you don't have to stay for this, we can go home. Dove is going to insure it happens anyways. We don't have to be here, certainly not you.” She looked over to the cheap and beat down Honda that was parked on the side of the road, having been dropped off hours ago for their purposes. She wasn't sure why, but sitting here so close to the town exit, there was an ominous feeling in the air. She wanted to talk to her husband about it but the issue was she wasn't sure how to describe it. It was likely just fear that this plan wouldn't work. But it was too late for her to change her mind, so she squeezes his hand back.

“I'm fine. Don't worry about me. I want to be here. For closure.” He nodded and hummed to show he understood, leaning back against his seat and sighing out. “I know you have a different desire for what should be done.”

“Yes, we've talked extensively on it. Fought extensively. But I'm doing this for you, I'll bend to make you happy. I don't want to fight anymore, I just want my wife to be able to walk down the street without fearing for her safety.”

“I love you, and thank you. I appreciate that you're willing to do it as I asked. Your way... Michael, we aren't... You aren't a murderer. I can't just watch your heart turn darker for me. This way is better. We don't have to hurt anyone, I can be safe without you killing him.”

“I don't want to fight anymore.” He sighed, turning and leaning across the seat so they were closer. “More often than not it's beneficial for a man to do was his wife wishes.”

“Happy wife, happy life.” They both laughed, some of the tension in the car melting away as they calmed. 

“Unhappy Belle, actual Hell.”

“Obey the missus, lots of kisses.”

“Doting husband, sex abundance.”

They were both laughing hard, her hand over her mouth as her shoulder shook. Seeing Michael's face red as he laughed wholly and unabashedly made their banter even more hilarious. His laugh, his genuine and hearty one, was one of the most contagious things in the world. She was truly blessed to be the one to hear it.

“Make her smile, get... Even more sex.” Her laughter had turned into an ugly sound, the occasional snort escaping as she leaned across the console on his shoulder.

“You didn't even try.” He gave her what was supposed to be a disapproving look but it just looked ridiculous as he was laughing his arse off. She squealed happily as he dragged her the rest of the way across so she was sitting on his lap. 

“You're the funny one.”

“How dare you? I'm so much more than that.” He wore a cocky smirk, and she rolled her eyes, squishing his cheeks together a moment. He let out an annoyed groan, tugging a strand her hair in retaliation, making her scowl.

“Ow! You missed the moral of our banter.” He smiled and she leaned closer, her head on his shoulder.

“Of course I didn't. I was already perfectly aware of it.” She smiled, her cheek against his silky tie. 

“You really think this will work?”

“I'm fairly confident.” She frowned. It wasn't the answer she had been hoping for, but she nodded to show she heard him. She jumped as there was a tap on the window, and she opened the car door. Rain was pouring down from the sky, her heeled boot landing in a puddle as she stepped out. Michael cursed under his breath, fumbling in the glove box for their umbrella. In the meantime, he pulled her hood on for her, adjusting it while letting himself get drenched. He opened the umbrella, his cane in the other hand as he held it over them, forming a shield from the rain. She moved so her arm was looped through his own, her other hand lightly on his bicep. She shivered against him as the wind howled, and he angled the umbrella a bit to ward off the change in direction.

“He's willing to cooperate.” Dove spoke in his usual serious monotone, and she squeezed closer to Michael. Dove got into the old Honda, backing it up a good distance before pulling it into the center of the road. He then went over to his own car, going to the trunk and lifting a body out. He dragged the man over to them, and she gasped as Michael kicked Keith hard, sending him to the ground.

“Michael!” She glared at him, and he smirked.

“Just had to get one last injury in before he's gone forever.” Keith groaned in pain, soaked from the downpour and the puddle he landed in. He slowly stood up, standing across from them as he glared at both.

“Mr. And Mrs. Gold. Nice you'll let me be untied this time.” Despite his snark, he still flinched back when Michael took a small step closer.

“Listen closely, dearie. If you ever come back to this town again, I'm going to have to disobey my wife. And that means killing you.” She swallowed hard, squeezing him tight so he couldn't walk away. “You've hurt her, violated her body, and made her feel unsafe. When you go against my wife, you go against me. You are so lucky I'm listening to her in this situation. You see, I don't normally let people get away.” Keith swallowed a lump in his throat, his hair matted down against his forehead from the rain. She looked down in confusion to see Michael was handing her his cane, but she took it. She gasped as he used his now free hand to pull a revolver out, aiming it at Keith.

“Michael! No!”

“M-Mr. Gold, we had a deal, I promise I'll leave!”

“Oh I know. I simply want to make sure you don’t try anything foolish. Get in the car and start it.” Keith slowly and nervously crept to the blue Honda. She was ashamed as she realized she flinched and pressed closer to her husband. But she knew he did not judge her for her fear, but rather he strived to vanquish it. She watched as he got in, Michael pulling her to the side of the road, keeping her close. Keith started the old engine, and the car sputtered a moment before roaring to life. Michael then nodded to the way out of town, using the gun to gesture. 

She watched as Keith drove off, but just as he was about to pass the town sign, she screamed in shock as the car spiraled off the road and into the woods, flipping. “What the hell...” She could barely hear Michael murmur from beside her before she went running towards the wreckage. “Belle, no! Be careful!” She could hear him doing the closest thing to a run his leg could handle, and it was Dove who stopped her from reaching Keith. He pushed her into the arms of her husband before rushing to the car, and she struggled against Michael.

“Michael! He could be hurt! We have to help him!” 

“You're not a doctor Belle, and I don't want you to have to see what could potentially be gruesome!” She was once again shocked by how strong he was even with the rain pouring down on them, the ground slippery beneath them. 

“Did you do this? Did you do something to the car so you could get your way and he'd die?” She tried to pull away from him, managing to break free, thunder cracking in the distance. She wasted no time in turning to rush to Keith, but as she neared the sign, the heel of her boot broke, sending her to the ground. She heard Michael gasp and watched as he hastened to her side, and she knew she'd later feel incredibly guilty about how quickly he dropped to his knees beside her. He pulled her up from the puddle she landed in, holding her close, both their hair soaked and messy. 

“Isabel, are you alright?” He rubbed her arms gently, looking down at her in concern, and she glared, trying to pull away. He let her, but she couldn't exactly do much with a broken heel, so she sat flat on her arse.

“What did you do to his car, Michael Richard Gold?”

“Oh, don't you Michael Richard me, who do you think you are, my mother?”

“Apparently I have to be in order to teach you right from wrong! How could you do this? You tampered with the car so he'd get hurt! You're a monster!” The look he gave her was a punch in the stomach. He looked crushed.

“I didn't tamper with the car, Isabel. I did nothing of the sort. We had a deal. I would swallow my hatred for you and allow you to come up with the solution on the condition he was away from us. I did not break the deal or bend it. I didn't touch the car.” He was trying to stand up, but she had at some point thrown the cane down, and it was wet and slippery. He was having trouble, and so was she. They were an absolute mess, and it was then she realized her face was wet with tears as well. Dove had his mobile phone to his ear, presumably calling an ambulance, so he took no notice of the fallen Mr. And Mrs. Gold.

“How can I believe you...? You suggested death. And he might be dead.” She wasn't certain he could hear her over the thunder and rain, but he lifted his head, looking at her. His face was twitching the way it did when he cried, and it only made her sob harder.

“I didn't touch the car, Isabel. I swear on our marriage.” His voice broke and he gave up on trying to stand, sitting on the ground as well. They both sat on the ground for a few minutes before the sound of ambulances approached, and he turned to her. “We need to go. Now. Use my shoulder to stand up.” She swallowed hard and nodded, crawling over to him. She placed a hand on his shoulder, using him as leverage to stand up. She picked up his cane and handed it to him, taking his other hand to help him. He nearly fell, so she wrapped an arm around his waist, beginning to sob into his chest.

“I j-just wanted to do the right thing, Michael, and it was the wrong thing.” She had no fond feelings for Keith, but she couldn't fight off the crushing guilt that this accident was her fault. Rather than find some way to coincide with the man she inadvertently caused him injury. “He might be dead. Because of me.” He didn't say anything, just guided her to the car, and she let him move her into the passenger seat. He got in on his own side, both of them shivering from their drenched bodies. He turned the car around to begin driving back to town, and as sirens approached, he pulled over as far as he could. She hoped they were hidden enough to not be seen, or at least enough for it to seem like Mr. And Mrs. Gold had simply pulled over to share some skin in the middle of the night. It wouldn't exactly be abnormal. Sometimes she made him drive around with her late at night, even when there was no destination. He couldn't drink if he was driving her.

She shook as he drove, and she vaguely registered a hand taking hold of her own. She didn't grip back, but she didn't pull away. She knew she was frightening him, but she was as laden with doubts as she was with rain. His breathing was heavier than it should have been as he released her hand, and she glanced over at him. He tugged on his collar as if it was restricting his breath, and she swallowed hard.

“Michael... Are you okay?” She watched the affirmative answer form in his lips, and part of her wanted to be lied to. If he was okay, then she'd be okay. Right now she wasn't, but he would take care of her. But she wasn't sure she was capable of taking care of him right now. 

The word died on his lips. “No.”

“Pull over.”

“No.”

“Michael. Please, pull over.” They were on their street, it may have been silly of her to insist it. But she was scared. He looked as though the slightest movement would make him jump out of his skin. He looked like he was about to fall apart, so she took his hand back. She knew her husband well enough to know he was having a panic attack. She reached another hand over, holding the wheel to keep it steady. He parked as best he could, and she shifted it into park for him, turning the engine off. Both of them were scrambling to get the other's door, and they collided at the hood of the car. He grabbed her around the waist to keep her upright, and she gripped the lapels of his jacket. Both of them leaned in, bumping their noses, and they kissed each other messily. She hoped the neighbor's were asleep, but really, the whole town already thought they were insane.

The rain was coming down harder but they didn't stop kissing. She ripped his hand from her waist, putting it over her heart. The beating of her own was much steadier than his, so she hoped it would soothe him.

“Don't leave me, Belle.”

“I w-was going to ask you the same thing.” 

“I'm afraid.” The words broke her heart, and she shook her head, pulling him into a hug, pressing their hearts together.

“Me too. But we have each other, and that's all we need.” He nodded, and together, they limped into the house. The door was then locked and they managed to get up the stairs, though not without time and difficulty. She kicked her boots off. She vaguely thought how they were brand new, there was no reason for them to have broken. She turned to look at her husband, and he was staring at the floor. Again, she noted that they were both an absolute mess, and she was sincerely frightened about what could have happened had they been alone. She could have lost her heel and toppled into the forest and smashed her head. He could have crashed the car into a pole.

She knew there was one thing that would make both of them feel better. She wasn't sure what to say, and she knew Michael went mute when he was upset. If she didn't do something, he would grab a bottle of his second love. There was only one way to both ground themselves and remind the other they were there, and she cleared her throat, unbuttoning her long black coat and tossing it aside. She wore one of his powder blue dress shirts, the fabric was essentially see through from the rain, and she was sure her hard nipples protruded through the fabric. 

He lifted his gaze to look at her as she pushed her skirt down, and his eyes changed, his tongue running across his lips. A different type of desperation appeared, and she knew he knew. His cane clattered loudly on the floor as he dropped it. He crossed the room to her, and she moaned as he roughly pushed her down on the bed, following her down. She could hear her panties rip as he tore them off, and his hands yanked the shirt apart.

“Need you.” Her voice was so sultry she almost didn't recognize it, and she felt a jolt of arousal surge through her as she heard his zipper go down. He crushed his lips to her own, thousands of kisses worth of experience all gone out the window. It was sloppy and he almost missed her lips. She sobbed in relief as she felt him push inside her body, and he wasted no time, beginning to thrust into her. One hand was planted beside her head, the other taking her's tightly.

“Tell me you love me. Please tell me.” His eyes full shut, pain etched on his face. Her other hand threaded through his hair, yanking so he'd open his eyes. He looked down at her with his mouth open, looking broken and desperate and hopelessly in love with her. She was certain her face matched. “Please tell me.”

“I love you, Michael Gold.” He sobbed in relief, and she hugged him close, her legs wrapping around his hips tightly. He pulled back enough to look down at her, the side of his mouth pink with her lipstick. His hair was dripping and dark with water, his eyes red. He was so beautiful, and she kissed him lovingly.

“I love you too, Belle Gold.” She smiled, but her lips parted so she could gasp as he angled his hips a bit, thrusting up at a new angle. She knew she wouldn't last long, she was on an emotional high and she was desperate to feel him. She was on fire. He dulled the pain, even when neither of them had sense enough to speak. This was the release they needed to support each other. The bed slammed off the wall, but they didn't stop. It could fall through the floor for all she cared, she wasn't going to lose their connection for anything. 

She half sobbed and half moaned his name as she came hard, gripping the wet fabric of his suit. She clenched around him, and she heard him growl, beginning to fuck her harder. “You're mine.” He murmured it into her neck, and she eagerly nodded, her hand running through his hair. “And I'm yours. My soul.” She moaned her agreement, and she heard him groan her name as he climaxed inside her. His thrusts were erratic and deep, and eventually she grabbed hold of his arse and pushed forward. She kept him still but as deep as possible, and she could feel him twitch and pulse within her. 

He held himself up to look down at her, and she shivered. She was nude and he was soaked. She pushed off his top layers, legs around his waist so he couldn't pull out. Eventually, his body simply wouldn't allow it, and he slowly rolled off her. She sat up, pulling his pants off. The bed was soaked and she knew they couldn't sleep in it, and she had no energy to change the sheets.

“Let's sleep in one of the guest rooms.” He nodded, slowly standing from the bed, and together they walked to the nearest room. The bed was only a full compared to their King, one side against the wall, so she climbed in first. She felt so safe being tucked between the wall and her husband. Both were quiet, but he was calm, his breathing steady and heart rate normal. She had helped him, and he may not have realized it, but he had helped her just as much. He chased away all the fear in her heart with his touch and belief in her. She heard him sigh, and looked at him curiously, her chin on his chest.

“Belle, I promise you, I didn't do any of that. I'm not sure what happened, but I didn't do a thing to the car. Dove bought it yesterday, I didn't even know what car he'd selected. Tonight was my first time seeing it.” She stroked his cheek, wetting her fingers to wipe some of her lipstick off him. She nodded once.

“I should have believed you the first time you said it. I know you wouldn't do that to me. Just... The thought that I put someone in a situation that hurt them... I just, that's the opposite of who I want to be.” He tucked some of her hair behind her ear, his eyes full of compassion.

“Sweetheart, you can't save everyone. Sometimes, it's okay to do the right thing for you. I'd say the average woman gets one ticket for monster rehabilitation, and you've used that one up on me. What happened isn't your fault, and he might be fine. We don't know yet. You can't control every situation in life.” She swallowed hard, but nodded. He was right, and she was once again astounded by how well he knew her. She wondered if she'd ever understand him as well as he did her. “You're not a bad person, you are one of the best people I've ever met. You're a genuinely good person. Please don't be unkind to yourself.” She took his cheeks and pulled him into a kiss, her thumbs gently stroking his skin.

“Why were you upset? I know it was your anxiety.... Was it just because you thought I was angry with you?” He tried to look down sheepishly, but she shook her head, keeping his up so he was looking at her.

“I thought you were leaving me. I wasn't going to say anything, I didn't want you to feel like you had to stay... But I was so scared to lose you.” 

“Michael, sweetheart. You won't lose me. Not if you talk to me and share yourself with me. I'm forever yours.” She kissed his cheek again and again, rubbing into him and making him laugh as he shifted. “I love you, Mike.”

“Who's Mike?”

“You're Mike.”

“I'm afraid I don't know any Mikes.”

“Would you prefer I use a nickname for your middle name? Which is more what you're being right now... Dick.” He choked on his air intake from the onslaught of laughter, turning his head to face her. She leaned in to kiss him while he was still breathless, and they laid closer together, buried under the sheets. She was freezing from her wet hair, and she was certain he was as well, so she pulled him closer.

“Ouch. My wife is very rude. She wounds me.” He laid his hand over his chest and pouted, and she smiled brightly, her hand covering his. She kissed him again, more deeply, making him groan as she bit his lip. 

“But she loves you more than anything in this world.” 

“And I happen to feel exactly the same about her.”

“We are a very abnormal couple.” He chuckled softly, pulling her so she was laying on his chest, a hand threading through his hair.

“I wouldn't have it any other way.” He kissed her head as she melted into his strong embrace. She was a puddle from his very breath on her skin, and she would have walked through any storm for him. Their love wasn't easy, and it certainly wasn't perfect. Their interests weren't always aligned, and they often had very different views of the world. She wasn't sure what the future would hold for them. There were cracks in both of them, holes that needed to be mended. She was willing to patch him up, and she knew he was willing to do the same. She wasn't a fortune teller, but she could see one thing: Michael was as much her future as she was his, and she would love him for as long as time went on.


	32. Henry

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hey guys! After the angst of last chapter (and the perpetual mess of the show itself), I decided you guys needed some good ol' fluff. And this is something a lot of comments have been mentioning, just with a slight alteration to it as the real deal isn't possible. Keep in mind that though my cursed Storybrooke has far less tedium and is different than in the show, time is still frozen for now, therefore no actual pregnancy can start.... Yet. But I hope this can hold you over for now :) Enjoy, and as always kudos and comment and all that jazz. As I post this, we are at 399 kudos, which is amazing! Thanks for reading!

Despite breaking a significant amount of his bones, Keith had survived the accident. Isabel felt immense relief when Dr. Whale had called Michael at ten past midnight to inform him discreetly, a decent sum ensuring his silence on their involvement at the line. She knew in the end she didn't do anything wrong. There was absolutely nothing wrong with any parts of the vehicle, and it seemed as though Keith had either lost control, or drove himself off the road in an attempt to harm or kill himself. She felt sympathy for him, and hoped that he would receive the help he needed if it was the latter.

The mayor had returned to the town, but she hadn't paid them any attention despite her usual harassment. And there was one reason for that. She had returned with an addition to her lonely life, a baby boy named Henry. She had yet to meet the baby, but she had heard rumors throughout the town that he was absolutely adorable despite his constant screeching. Michael had joked he would wail too if Regina was the first sight he saw each day.

She hoped that chapter in their life was over and that they could finally focus on themselves. They had plenty of issues without the rest of the town piling more on. People had seemed to grow more accepting of them, and they received far fewer looks of disgust or disbelief. She had even heard them referred to as cute as they walked past a group, and her heart swelled in her chest with joy.

It was a quiet day in the shop. Michael was tinkering with a broken clock that just wouldn't work, and she was cleaning the glass of the display cases. They worked in comfortable and companionable silence, though every time they caught each other's eye they smiled fondly. She was a chatty person and he was in the right situation, but she adored the fact that they could simply enjoy each other's presence and not need words.

Their bubble of serenity and comfort was popped when the door slammed open, and an angry Regina stormed in. She had a carrier in her hand, and she set it down near the counter, and Isabel raised an eyebrow as Regina leaned in, glaring at Michael. Regina lifted a finger, pointing it at him before she snarled. “You knew! You knew!”

“Knew what exactly?”Michael arched an eyebrow, and husband and wife turned to look at one another at precisely the same moment.

“The child that you located for me in Phoenix, his mother was found outside the town in the woods. Eighteen years ago!” She was enraged as Henry cried and whined, and Isabel bit her lip, slowly trying to creep over to the bundle.

“What a startling coincidence.” He sounded sarcastic, and Isabel rolled her eyes, watching Regina as she casually pulled the carrier closer to her. Henry looked up at her in interest, still whining.

“Eighteen years ago!” She spoke as if Michael was supposed to know the meaning of that statement, and she watched his face closely. He seemed genuinely ignorant.

“Eighteen years ago. I'm afraid I don't understand the significance, I fear I'm losing my memory in my old age.” Isabel rolled her eyes again, gently dragging the carrier over, Regina stalking Michael and blocking his body from sher line of vision. “You'll have to forgive me, I tend to focus primarily on my wife these days.”

“How sweet. And what if you happened to lose this sham of a marriage?” Isabel felt a chill creep down her spine, and she clenched her fist. She jumped as she heard a hand slam down, Regina leaning away, presumably as Michael leaned closer. She shifted to the side with the carrier, able to see the showdown from the side.

“It would do you a world of good not to threaten what I hold dear, Madame Mayor. I don't think this is a road you should travel.” The snarl was evident in his tone, and she was reminded of the situational bloodlust that lay beneath a tender touch and loving smile.

“Eighteen years, Gold, on the night I did all this! This town... This town...”

“This town. What?” He was blatantly toying with the woman now, and she couldn't help but giggle at her husband’s antics.

“The night I built this town, I started it all! I sacrificed everything for this town, for this life!”

“Just how old are you, Madame Mayor?” Isabel knew it was petty the second the words escaped her lips, but she couldn't hold in her snark. Regina didn't take her seriously. She saw her as Michael's docile and naive young wife, and Isabel wasn't going to let Regina push her around. She wasn't frightened of her. She heard Michael snicker, walking the length of the counter to catch her eye and wink, holding up four fingers on one hand and shaping a zero on the other. They both laughed.

“None of your business! And I'm not forty! You two disgust me, the town wonder duo. You planned this! You planned this all along! There's a reason you two were able to fall in love when I tried to make it impossible, you weren't supposed to love each other! You planned this all, you planned Henry's mother, you planned this sabotage!”

“If what you say is true I was only twenty-two when all this happened, and you were around twelve. How does a twelve year old build a town?” Michael raised his voice to speak over the constant sound of Henry’s wailing, and Isabel couldn’t take it anymore. The poor thing was in need, and clearly his mother didn’t care. 

“Don't play dumb! What do you remember?” Isabel seized her chance. She smiled brightly as she kneeled down, unbuckling the clasp and gently pulling the infant out. She cradled him gently to her chest, and he immediately stopped, looked up at her and smiled.

“What do you mean? I don't believe I lived here, I'm not entirely certain. That was a long time ago.” Michael was clearly getting frustrated, and she hoped Regina would calm herself soon.

“This mother. She's important, isn't she?”

“You could say that in the sense that she gave birth to your son.”

“You really know nothing of this? Tell me the truth!”

“Well I know you're upset, hysterical is the word I may use, actually.” Henry giggled as Isabel tickled his soft cheek, she held him closer, beaming at him.

“You want this all to end! You told me I would have a hole in my heart, that I would come to you! You want to destroy what I worked so hard for!”

“I sincerely don't know what you are talking about, Miss Mills, and I suggest you...” He trailed off slightly and Isabel looked up to see why. He was staring straight at her, his mouth hanging open in pure awe. His eyes flicked down to the bundle in her arms, and the lines in his face faded. He swallowed a lump in his throat, and their eyes met. She felt a sting in her's as Henry tugged her hair, and she knew in that moment that she wanted this more than anything. Regina turned to see what Michael was looking at, snarling.

“Did you plan that too? I go and fetch the baby so your precious little wife can steal him away? So he'd cry when I held him but melt when she did? Don't get too attached dear, Henry goes straight back to Boston tomorrow morning! I will have my revenge!” She was shouting now, and Henry was whimpering from the volume. Isabel glared at her, pulling him closer protectively. “But know what? Keep him for the night. Get attached to him, because it's going to be fleeting, and I'm going to rip him from your arms tomorrow at 10. You won't take my revenge!” Regina scowled at them both and stomped by, slamming the door to the shop shut.

She gently moved Henry to her shoulder, beginning to rock him gently, rubbing his back in slow circles. He calmed quickly, leaning into her shoulder, and she heard the sound of an unaided limp approaching her. She shifted Hendy so she was cradling him again, looking up at Michael. He smiled gently, and his arm came around her shoulder as he drew her in close. His hand hesitantly came up to take one of Henry's, and Henry made a content noise.

“You look radiant with a child in your arms. It's a sight too good for this foul earth.” His voice was barely over a whisper, and she leaned her head against him.

“He's so beautiful, Michael. I... I can't remember if I've ever actually held a baby.”

“You look entirely natural with him. And he looks comfortable and happy with you, too. I don't blame him, it's like going from a demon to an angel.” She giggled, leaning into his side more, and they both began to move towards the back of the shop. They sat down on the cot side by side, and he looked nervous as she tried to pass him Henry. “Perhaps I shouldn't, it's been a rather long time.”

“I just told you I've never, it'll be fine. Hold him.”

“Belle... If I hold him...I'll...”

“...you're going to start wanting this.”

“Start? I already want this with all my heart.” She swallowed hard but he leaned forward, gently taking Henry into his arms. He fussed a moment but quickly calmed, his hand blindly and clumsily grabbing along his silk tie. He seemed to enjoy the material as he let out a happy sound, his feet kicking.

“You're not alone in this want.” She leaned her head on him, pulling her legs up and tucking them against his side.

“This soon? You'd want it this soon?”

“Yes. Without a question. I love you Michael. And this feels right.” Looking at her husband as he held the infant made her heart ache with love. She had began to imagine how it would feel to see him hold a child they made together. It would make her so happy she would surely die. “But there's a condition to that.”

“You would want me to stop drinking...”

“Yes. You already know I want you to.” He sighed softly and nodded in understanding, looking away from Henry to look at her.

“And you know I want to as well. It's just so hard, Belle.” She rubbed his arm reassuringly, leaning up and kissing his cheek, lingering against the stubbly skin. She loved when he skipped shaving for a few days, and her hand brushed across the other side of his cheek.

“I know sweetheart, I know. But I also know we're in this together. And look at what you and I have accomplished lately. We work best together. And if we're going to start considering a child, then it's best to practice teamwork even more. Let's beat this.” He smiled sincerely, nodding. He looked more genuine about quitting than he ever had, and perhaps this was the incentive they needed. She was enough to make him want it, but them having a family would be the push to make him do it. She did not let that sting. She knew it wasn't that she was not enough. It was partially her fault. They had been happy despite his problems, and perhaps she had led him to believe that he could have her and the alcohol. It was a problem, and she acknowledged it. They would have to get serious.

“I love you, Belle. Thank you for never giving up on me.” She kissed him softly, her hand sliding along his thigh affectionately.

“Michael, I'll never give up on you. You're worth fighting for, and I'll fight forever if I have to. I'd walk through any storm for you. I love you.” Michael gently laid Henry vertically across his legs, tickling his pudgy belly, making him scream with laughter. Michael looked a decade younger as he smiled, turning to look at her. “Do you... Do you think Regina will come back for him...?”

“Isabel... Don't do that to yourself...”

“I know, I know. Of course she will. But that doesn't mean we can't enjoy his company for now, right?” He nodded, though wariness had come across his face.

“I just don't want you to get attached to this particular baby. He isn't ours.”

“No, no, of course not. I know that.” They were both silent a moment before he spoke up, sounding solemn.

“Do you even think I can be an adequate father despite my physical impairment?” He glanced down at his leg sadly, and she swallowed hard. She turned his cheek to face her. “I just mean... I'm already older than most fathers are, so he or she would have to deal with that. You do keep me young, I don't feel old, but... That doesn't mean I can run and teach our child how to play baseball or football, I'm too weak for that...”

“Being a good father isn't determined by how fast you can run or how well you can kick a football into a net. And by the way, if that was important to you, your other leg is fine, and I know you played in college. You give yourself less credit than you deserve. You aren't weak because you have a limp. You move more gracefully than me, you manage to hike through the woods to take me to dinner, you even beat up a man half a foot taller. You're not weak, and don't you dare think you are.” She couldn't help but jab his chest at the last sentence, and he smiled slightly.

“Perhaps you're right.”

“We've discussed that I usually am. Don't let what you think is a negative quality hold you back. Because honestly? I've never once seen your leg as you do. You see it as a burden or bad quality. It's never once made any difference to me. And you look very handsome and distinguished with a cane.” He laughed at the last part, rolling his eyes and kissing her cheek.

“I'm sorry. It's a foolish reason to be afraid. You and I could give a child a good life. They'd want for nothing material, and they'd never go to bed feeling unloved. Besides... I'm sure you could muster enough coordination to play a sport.” She gasped and smacked his chest, making him chuckle with a mischievous smirk, and she leaned against him.

“That was rude.” He kissed her while pouting, glancing back down at the now sleeping infant.

“I'm sorry... Do you think we should bring him home with us? Or see if Regina is ready to be less of a witch?” She chewed her lip, looking up at him sheepishly.

“I'd really like to bring him home. I'm worried, he doesn't seem to like her.”

“Babies can pick up on how you feel. She must send off negative waves. What a shock. We'll bring him home, but sweetheart, are you going to be able to handle saying goodbye?”

“O-of course! Don't be so silly Michael, let's go!” She jumped up and rushed to the front of the shop, returning with the car seat. He gently placed Henry inside, and she watched his eyes flicker to his cane. They both grabbed it at the same time. “I've got it, honey.”

“No, really, I have it.”

“Michael, it's no trouble.”

“I would very much appreciate not being treated like the cripple you say I'm not.” He glared slightly, though he recoiled once she returned it.

“How dare you. You know that's not it. Go get the car door open.” She let go of the handle, folding her arms, and he fidgeted a moment before walking ahead and nodding. She rolled her eyes. They could both be so stubborn, she imagined they looked like children to anyone who ever saw. She picked the seat up, locking the shop behind her as she carried the surprisingly heavy seat out. She carefully placed it in the back, freezing as she looked at the security system on it. She tried to figure it out, but it didn't look secure in the slightest. She felt a gentle touch on her lower back and turned, stepping aside for Michael. He leaned in, and she watched as he expertly strapped the seat to the back. She watched closely to try and learn, and he straightened.

“I'm sorry. Let's not fight.” She nodded immediately, walking into him and throwing her arms around his waist in a lazy hug. His own came around her shoulder, and he kissed her on the top of the head. She pulled back just enough to lean up and kiss him, smiling into it, and he stroked her hair before opening her door for her.

He limped to his own side, starting the engine and pulling out from his spot. He drove with both hands for once, his pace much slower, and she appreciated his caution with Henry in the back. It took an additional five minutes to get home, but once they did, he came around and got her door once more. She took his hand, carefully getting out, mindful of the pathway.

“We need to get this path repaired. It has cracks that don't bode well with canes or heels.” She gently poked his arm before she pointed to several of the hazardous areas. He glanced down, nodding as he saw what she was referring to, holding her hand more tightly to support her.

“I'll arrange for it sometime this week. I've been meaning to. Will you go ahead and open the front door?” She nodded, taking the keys he held out before walking to the front door. She glanced back to see him removing the seat, and she opened it wide, allowing him to bring Henry into their home.

Hours later, after Henry had napped, Michael had run to the store to get baby supplies, and she had made dinner, they found themselves on a thick blanket on the living room floor. His bad leg was carefully stretched out while she sat pretzel style, both fawning over the baby. He giggled and squealed, playing with the toys Michael had brought home. Though they were having fun and her heart was growing fonder, she had to keep reminding herself not to grow used to Henry or this. The soonest they could even realistically have this depended on Michael and quitting drinking, and even then, it took time to conceive. She was filled with a nagging fear that she wouldn't be able to.

“Hey. Are you alright?” She felt a hand on her leg to match the gentle tone of her husband’s voice, and she looked up to see soft brown eyes regarding her with concern. She nodded, leaning in and kissing him softly. “Stop thinking so much. You do too much of that, Belle.” She smiled sheepishly.

“I know...” She watched Henry yawn, looking to Michael. “Where should he sleep?”

“We could put him in the guest bedroom beside our own. We can set up a barrier of pillows around the edges of the bed. It's against the wall anyways, so that will make it safer.” She nodded, standing up and offering him her hand. He planted a hand on the table, slowly pushing himself up. She bent to scoop Henry up, and together they went to the bedroom. She laid him down to attempt to change his diaper, trying uselessly before looking to Michael in frustration. He again showed her, and she sighed.

“I'm so bad at this. I don't know if I'm even fit to be a mother.”

“It's simply something you've never done. I've had a newborn before, I learned all of this already. You'll learn with time, you're already a natural at the more nurturing aspect. You have a mother's touch already.” She smiled, sitting back with Henry and beginning to slowly rock him. She hummed a distant song to him, watching him drift off with ease. She was astounded by how good of a baby he was. She laid him down gently, Michael arranging the pillows around him, forming a soft wall in case he rolled.

“Goodnight, Henry.” She whispered it, taking Michael's hand and heading to their own bedroom.

Strangely enough, she didn't feel as tired as she should have after caring for the baby. Michael seemed fine, so she leaned up and kissed him passionately. He took the cue immediately, and she soon found herself spread out under him on the bed, his head between her thighs as his tongue expertly worked her. He sharply pinched her thigh when she made too loud of a moan, and she writhed under him. She clamped her mouth shut as an orgasm took her body over, pulling him up to her lips. She moaned softly as she tasted herself, and they both began to undress him, hands colliding, making them laugh quietly.

“I once read that this rarely happens after you have children,”she said. He tilted his head as he looked down at her, her body trapped beneath his own.

“Well, in my first marriage that was true. But keep in mind that's because you have the baby, you have work, you have house maintenance and cleaning. You and I have the luxury of being able to afford hiring someone to clean the house. I had a maid before we married. And, we have more flexible hours with the shop. We don't have to work every day or even at all for awhile. Most of our income is from the rent, we could last two years on one month from the whole town.” She scoffed softly. She had deposited all the money from a month with him once. That money would last far longer than two years, it was almost offensive, and she could momentarily see why everyone disliked at least his financial position. “The point is, when my son was a baby I was low class. All my time and money went into him as I had to work. We will never have to stress over making ends meet, so we won't be constantly exhausted. And it depends on the baby. My boy was very well behaved and slept like a rock.”

“Well, both of us sleep like that.” She giggled softly and he chuckled, still on top of her.

“You and I will be just fine, our intimacy will not be influenced too severely, though we will likely have to stop spontaneous coupling on the couch.” She giggled louder, trying not to moan with pleasure as he leaned forward, his lips attaching to her neck as he kissed and sucked the tender skin. She shifted her hips up, sighing in relief as she felt him push his cock inside her, filling her to the hilt. She placed a hand on his ass and pushed him down, whimpering contently as he was pushed in deeper.

“Michael...”

“You feel so good, Belle.” His accent was so thick with pleasure that she almost came again right then. If the myths about orgasms being able to be had from a man talking alone were true, she knew Michael would be able to. He could work her up so easily. “So tight and warm... As tight as the first time...” She sighed into his hair as he began to thrust, her legs wrapping around his waist to hold onto him. She dug her nails into his back, making him hiss out softly, his thrusts coming faster. They moved together, and as she grew close she tugged his hair she was holding to alert him, and they both moaned. The surge of arousal that came forth as he covered her mouth with his large, strong hand was enough to send her over the edge, and she came hard, his hand muffling the sound. She felt him twitch within her as he groaned her name, and she was flooded with warmth. She decided she enjoyed the closeness and natural aspect that came without using protection. It had always been heaven, but this was strangely better given their commitment and the situation. It seemed the pill was making her breasts bigger too, and she started to giggle. “What's funny?”

“Nothing, nothing... I just...” She kept giggling, giddy from the high Michael being inside her brought on, so she couldn't get herself under control. He looked down at her in amusement, tilting his head. “I was just thinking how much better that is without a condom.”

“Oh, I could have told you that. I simply didn't want it to seem like I was pressuring you into not using anything, I wanted to you to be comfortable, and for our relationship to be at a point where anything accidental wouldn't be an issue.” She still giggled, and he laughed with her, and the fact that he didn't know why she was laughing made it even funnier.

“I'm just giggling because of my boobs. The pill definitely made them bigger.” She watched him lift up slightly, his eyes taking in her chest, and he smirked a bit.

“I thought it was just a new bra.”

“You noticed? You didn't even say!”

“I didn't want you to become aware of just how much time I spend admiring your body. Though you generally show more leg than cleavage so I have to work a little harder for that.” She laughed again, rolling her eyes as he leaned forward, nuzzling into her breasts.

“You make it sound like this tactical thing. You're my husband, I'm not going to be offended if it's blatant. I would rather you check me out than anyone else...”

“Why would I waste my time doing that when my wife is the hottest and most beautiful woman in town? A man in a Porsche doesn't envy a man in a Honda.” She smiled slightly, arranging his hair as if to braid it, stroking his cheek.

“Perfect, because you've always been the only man for me. My husband is the best, I don't need anyone else. Besides, the men in this town are...”

“Peasants?”

She giggled. “That's rude. They're just not my extremely gorgeous husband.” He snorted, shifting off her and pulling her onto his chest, his arms around her.

“I love you, my little kiss ass.”

“Oh, then what does that make you? You openly worship me.” She smiled sweetly, watching his face shift from playful to something she could only describe as awe. “I love you too, Greek God.”

“Scottish.”

“Even better. Get some sleep, handsome.”

“Don't be alarmed if Henry wakes you and he's crying. That's normal and nothing to be scared about. He'll just need a bottle and a changing and a little comfort.” She nodded nervously. It was absurd, but she was uncertain when she was alone with the baby. Michael was experienced, but she suspected he had always been a natural. “I'll wake up if you do, anyways. We can take care of him together.”

“Okay... You're so good with him.” She smiled, reaching over to click the light off before laying on his chest, an arm around him. “That's one of the best feelings. Knowing you're going to be the perfect father.”

He was silent a moment. Then he spoke with a thick, almost sad voice. “No one has ever said that to me.”

“Well, I know it with all my heart.” She felt him kiss her head, lingering a moment against her before shifting her closer.

“Isabel?”

“Yes, sweetie?”

“You'll be a perfect mother.”

She cried into his chest with happiness, and he cried into her hair with the very same emotion. She smiled the whole time, even during a wet and messy kiss. They hold each other tight, bursting with visions of their future and desires they thankfully shared.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Big thanks to my amazing beta gamezees!


	33. The Wrong Kind of Bottle

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hey guys! I hope you like this chapter, and if you do, leave a comment or kudos, it helps me out! This story has gotten so much bigger than I imagined, and I'm kinda embarrassed to say I honestly don't see an end point any time soon. I hope you guys stick around for another 120k words if that's what ends up happening, and I hope you don't find this mundane.

The deafening sound of an infant screaming roused her from an otherwise peaceful sleep, and she groaned, shifting in the bed. She reached her hand out to tap Michael awake only to grab a handful of silk sheets. She opened her eyes to peer around curiously, but her husband was gone. She sat up as the wailing only seemed to grow louder, slipping her feet into slippers before standing up. She pulled a robe around herself, making her way to the room the baby was set up in. Perhaps Michael had beat her go it.

She scooped Henry up in her arms, gently rocking him. “There, there, darling. It's okay, I'm here for you.” She held him close, and he calmed slightly. She knew he was likely hungry, so she gently shifted him to begin the trek downstairs. There was still no sign of Michael, and she felt a gnawing feeling in her chest. She saw a light was already on in and kitchen, and Michael had his head in the fridge. She smiled fondly, though it faded away as she heard the clinking of bottles.

“Michael? What are you doing, honey?” He jumped slightly, whirling around, and she sighed in relief. He had a bottle in his hand, which he held up sheepishly. 

“I was going to bring him down. But ah... I can't carry him down the stairs with my cane, not at night. I was trying to get the bottle before you woke. I just was going to warm it a bit. He may prefer it. My son did...” He trailed off slightly, turning to set to heating it. She held Henry close to her as he moved about, shivering from the cool air as she snuggled him. 

“You didn't have to come all the way down in the middle of the night. I know how stiff your leg is when you first wake up.” She approached him, and he smiled, his arm sliding around her shoulders.

“How did I end up with such a caring wife who pays such close attention? I'm truly a lucky man.” She leaned into him, and he stroked Henry's chubby cheek. He stared up at Michael a moment, his pink lips parted, and he cooed contentedly.

“I love you, Mike. It's my job.”

“If you loved me, you wouldn't call me Mike,”he said. She giggled and rolled her eyes, and he grabbed the bottle as it was warmed adequately. He dropped his arm and took hold of his cane, walking towards the stairs, looking at her to make sure she followed him. She watched him carefully as he walked, holding Henry protectively. They made it back to the guest bedroom, sitting side by side on the bed. She carefully shifted Henry so he was arranged correctly, and Michael checked the bottle before handing it to her. Henry began to suckle hungrily, and she could feel Michael's eyes on her.

“Oh, someone is hungry. You poor thing.” She smiled down at him, feeling a tug in her chest. This was bad news. She was falling more and more in love with this baby, and she was powerless to stop it. The fact that he would likely be ripped from them soon would crush her.

“Sweetheart? What's wrong?” She felt a large but gentle hand brush her hair to one side, and she turned to look at Michael, her eyes shining and big. Henry was blissfully unaware as he continued to enjoy his bottle, and Michael sighed, his arm coming around her. She knew he knew without words what was bothering her

“This isn't good. We legally can't keep him. She could return for him at any moment, this is considered babysitting. If we even tried to keep him despite her, that's essentially abduction.” He rubbed her arm gently as he spoke, quite obviously trying to let her down easy. It didn't help that it was his lawyer voice, and not his husband voice. He was trying his hardest to see it from that point of view, and she knew it was how he protected his heart. 

“Can't we... adopt him? She abandoned him at our shop, couldn't we...” she trailed off, and she knew she sounded like a child. But the truth was she needed this to be their reality after everything. They would be good parents, better than Regina, that was certain. She would spend the whole day with him, she'd quite happily stay home with the baby. Michael wasn't the type of man to look down on that. He let her do whatever she wanted, he was always supportive. They could give Henry, or any baby for that matter, a wonderful and happy life.

“Isabel. It doesn't work like that. The agency Henry was adopted from has a wait list. Basically, if the adoption with Regina fails or falls through, he would go to the couple on the list next. That's not us. We haven't even applied. It takes months. And what agency would even see me as a suitable father?” His voice broke towards the end and she gasped, looking at him in shock. “Bum leg, drinking problem, a wife who married him because she had to, a dead son.”

“M-Michael, how could you say those things? I didn't have to do a damn thing. I didn't have to marry you. I wanted to, I made that choice. You didn't decide it, I did.” She glared at him, and he looked away, staring down at his hands. “The leg and losing your son isn't your fault. No sane person would ever hold that against you. And yeah, you do have a problem. But it's a disease, and it's not a death sentence or what determines your value as a man. It's something you just have to let me help you with. Maybe I can't convince you, but I married you because I was falling for you. It's as simple as that. You're making something out of nothing.”

“How could anyone love me, Belle? There is nothing positive about me. I don't have any good qualities, and I can't give you everything you deserve when you want it.” She stared at him in shock, and it was then she detected the slur in his words.

“You're drunk.”

“Not yet. But I'm getting there.” He slowly stood from the bed, his cane planted firmly so he could make it, and he limped right out of the room. She stared after him in shock, tears spilling from her eyes. She quickly finished with Henry and placed him back between the pillow barriers. She stormed down the hall, in search of her husband who was dangerously close to sleeping on the couch for the next week.

She found him in the kitchen, leaning against the counter with a full to the brim glass of scotch. She turned the light on, and it was then she noticed his eyes were bloodshot. She walked over and wrapped her hand around the glass, trying to gently pull it from his hand. But he wouldn't let go.

“Michael, give me the glass now. You don't need this.” His grip was strong, and she leaned up more, her face close as she pulled.

“Yes I do, for when you leave me because of a child! You have a much better chance of getting an adoption alone than you would with me. Divorce me, and go.”

“Divorce you? You're acting ridiculous! I'm not leaving you, child or no child! I'm sorry I'm being the way I am, I'm just growing attached. I-I know it's irrational to just jump into being a mother, I just love how it feels. Being needed and loved unconditionally.” His mouth fell open and the glass slipped from his hand, shattering on the floor.

“You... You don't think I need and love you?”

“You don't think I feel that way for you so there must be something I've done wrong.” She sniffled, turning and taking a few steps away.

“Belle... Sweetheart. You've done nothing wrong.”

“All I do is cause trouble for you. I'm impulsive and have only created more work for you. Before me, you did whatever you wanted. You didn't have to deal with crazy men trying to hurt me, you didn't get arrested, no one bothered you. If you're already planning divorce or thinking I would because we don't have a child, then you think little of me.”

“Belle, it's not that. I don't think little of you, I think the world of you. And that's why I don't think I deserve you. I'm not the dream husband little girls want. I'm old, I'm a cripple, I have more baggage than an airport. I've been divorced and lost a son, and I'm not good looking or carefree.” She slowly turned to face him, and she tilted her head. Hearing him pour all this out only served to make her love him more. She wanted to prove to him that he was an amazing man. She slowly approached him, taking him by the shoulders gently, smiling reassuringly.

“That isn't for you to decide, Michael. You don't get to decide what I deserve. No one decides that but me. I... I think both of us are being a little irrational right now. It's just... I love you more than anything in this world. And I don't know how I can do more to show you that, I already try my best to make you feel it everyday. I don't know h-how to prove myself...”

“Sweetheart, I'm not asking you to prove anything. I don't think you're trouble. My life before our marriage was miserable. Please don't think it was better because it was less eventful. I'll take the bad days with the good. Nothing that's happened to us has been your fault. I would stand by you through anything. I love you more than anything, Belle, and I don't need proof that you're the best thing in my life. You don't have to prove that or show it, you do it just by existing. It's just very hard for me to see why. I don't think I'm worthy...”

“You are. Worth isn't determined by what mistakes you've made, or what your body looks like. You're worthy because you love me, and I love you in return. Being worthy of something is a stupid concept... No one but you and I can decide that.“ She was crying again, and this time, he carefully pulled her into his chest. His grip was so loose at first, and when she didn't pull away, his arms locked around her and pulled her in close. She sank into his chest, her arms around him.

“I'm sorry. I couldn't sleep, I was stressed out. I was... so afraid that if I don't give you a baby, you'll leave. So I came down to have a few drinks and when Henry began to cry, I knew you'd wake so I put everything away to try and grab the bottle. I'm sorry. I am.” She sucked in a sharp breath, closing her eyes a moment.

“Please... Don't ever leave our bed to drink again. If you're stressed or afraid, wake me up. I don't care what time it is, wake me up, and I'll take care of you.” She tucked his hair behind his ear, and he nodded slightly. 

“Let's return to bed. I won't leave your side ever again at night.” She leaned into him and he into her, slowly walking back up the stairs. Henry was sound asleep, so they walked past his room and went right to their own bedroom. She dropped her robe, able to feel her husband's eyes on her body as she was left entirely nude. She turned to face him, the moonlight illuminating his face, his eyes trailing along her. He watched her as he slowly sank down onto the bed, crawling back until he hit the headboard. “Belle.” 

“Yes, my love?”

“I'm sorry.”

“I forgive you.” She was careful not to tell him what he did was okay. It wasn't anywhere near okay, but she wasn't angry with him. She wanted him to know both those things before they left this situation behind them. Hopefully he would learn and stick by his words. She took out a clean pair of his boxers and pulled them up, the loose fabric comfortable on her body. She climbed into bed with him, straddling his hips and looking at his face. She could see half of his features clearly, the other half in the shadows. His eyelids were droopy and the area around them red, and she leaned in and kissed him softly. His breath was terrible, laced with scotch, and she tried not to wince, keeping the kiss chaste. She climbed off him, snuggling down into the sheets with a soft sigh. He looked disappointed, and she rolled her eyes. “Lay with me, honey. When you're not drunk we'll make-up properly.”

“Of course. I'm quite tired anyways. I just want to hold you.” He smiled slightly, laying down beside her, pulling her into his arms. She laid her head on his chest, her hand resting gently on his soft tummy. His arms were locked around her, and she closed her eyes, relaxing into his grip and the beat of his heart. 

“You don't feel sick right? Not like you're going to vomit? I don't know how much you had.” She rubbed her hand down his arm soothingly, squeezing the bicep softly.

“No, I'm alright. I promise, I would tell you if I wasn't.” She nodded in understanding, melting into him, her legs around his waist, locking them in close. She could feel his member against her, though he didn't seem fully erect to her. She knew he was more tired then he said, so she reached up and stroked his hair. 

In no time he was snoring softly, and she finally left herself drift off and join him, though her dreams were fitful and plagued with nightmares. Images of a filthy tower, chains, and a small window that allowed her to see a hazy and dangerous most approaching plagued her. Shattered porcelain laid on the ground, dozens of teacups shattered beyond repair. The strange storm raged on outside, and her heart was filled with terror of what she didn't know was coming. Then she was in the dark and colder, and lonelier than she'd ever been. The dream then flashed to her wedding day. It was no longer dark and she was no longer alone, and her dream supplied perfect memory of that day. As she woke up to a still dark sky and a still sleeping husband, she was reminded that the unknown wasn't always a bad thing.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you to my wonderful beta Gamezees.


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